The Feeling That I'm Under
by wearing-tearing
Summary: Stiles is a paramedic and Derek gets into a bike accident. It's kind of love at first sight.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n**: all the thanks to andy for cheer-leading and giving me a hundred different ideas (including telling me about the wirral egg run and sharing stories about her brother and their friends who ride bikes) on what i could write about biker!derek. even though this turned out to be more of a paramedic!stiles fic.

lots of hugs and kisses to viola for telling me to give her all i've got, and to beth for reading this over for me. you're all lovely xoxo

title from steppenwolf's _born to be wild_ because _i like smoke and lightning, heavy metal thunder, racing with the wind, and __**the feeling that i'm under**_.

* * *

"I can't believe you're doing this to me."

"I'm _sorry_."

"Scott, buddy," Stiles looks at his best friend's fallen face and swallows hard. "You _promised_."

"I _know_, I know I did," Scott runs a hand over his hair, clutching his helmet tightly in a white-knuckled grip in the other. "But Allison wanted to be in the run and I told her she could ride with me and-"

"Scott," Stiles whines, because he cannot fucking believe this. "We've been doing this for years. It's tradition!"

"I know!" Scott says loudly, a couple of the people in the hospital parking lot turning to stare at them. "But this is the first day off Ally and I have together in a really long time and she knows how much this means to me and she wanted to support me."

"Can't she support you by waiting for you at the finish line with a big bottle of champagne and dressed as a slutty bunny like the rest of the riders' girlfriends?"

And when Scott's face closes off, Stiles knows he's being a dick.

It's not like he's trying to be one, not really, but he means what he said.

Stiles and Scott have a very close relationship with the Beacon Hills Egg Run.

It started with them as little kids, running around the hospital hallways and driving the Sheriff and Mrs. McCall crazy while Stiles' mom laughed and told them to let the kids have fun.

They saw the hospital as their own personal kingdom. Mostly because they were still cute and innocent enough to have the staff give them warm smiles and let them get away with things - like having wheelchair races and stealing jelly donuts from unsuspected nurses at the nurses' station and making balloons out of latex gloves - but also because they knew what both Scott and Stiles didn't.

That Stiles' mom was sick.

That treatment wasn't working.

That she wasn't getting better.

And that they'd be spending a lot more time walking around the hospital hallways driving the Sheriff and Mrs. McCall sick with worry while Stiles' mom smiled weakly and told them to let them be kids while they still could.

So one day when the Sheriff dropped them off with Scott's mom after school and they saw the bikes in the parking lot, finding out from another nurse that the people in them were bunnies - some of them with only whiskers drawn on their faces and floppy bunny ears on their heads and others with a full bunny suit with a fluffy tail - and that they brought along chocolate, it was like everything was alright in the world again.

At least for a little while.

And even though a part of Stiles still hates going anywhere near the hospital, he can't help the warmth those memories bring him.

He knows Scott feels the same way, and that that was one of the reasons why it wasn't really that hard to convince him to sign them both up in the race when they turned sixteen and Scott managed to save enough money to buy himself a bike.

The look on their parents faces when they told them they'd be participating and helping deliver Easter eggs to the children up at the Beacon Hills Hospital all the while raising money for charity was enough to seal the deal.

Because seeing their parents stare at them with tears in their eyes and _pride_ in their smiles is enough to make Stiles and Scott feel secure enough to do anything, really.

So it became tradition for them to sign up and ride together year after year after year, with Stiles in the back in a full bunny suit and Scott with his face painted and bunny ears glued to his helmet.

And that's why Stiles can't really help the utter disappointment he feels when standing in front of Scott right now.

Because this is something that's _theirs_.

Or at least was.

"I'm sorry, buddy," Stiles sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "It's just-"

Scott gives him a nod of understanding when all Stiles can do is wave his hand in front of him, but before either of them can say anything Allison comes running from behind Scott and throws her arms around his shoulders, "Scott!"

She has on a tiara with fake bunny ears glued to it, one of them falling over her forehead, the tip of her nose painted black and whiskers drawn on her cheeks.

She looks _adorable_, and Stiles kind of wants to die a little bit because he knows there's no way he's going to stay mad at either her or Scott for this.

Especially when he sees the brown tail and safety pin she has in one hand.

"Please tell me that's for him," Stiles asks her, pointing a finger to the tail and tilting his chin up in Scott's direction.

He can't help but smile in glee at the _evil_ glint in Allison's eyes when she looks at him from over Scott's shoulder.

Or at the horrified look Scott gives him when he sees what Allison is holding.

"But-" Scott tries to protest, failing horribly when Allison merely flashes her dimples at him and comes to stand by Stiles' side.

"You can't have ears without having a tail, dude," Stiles shakes him head at his best friend.

He knows the reason why Scott avoids that particular part of the costume is because he forgets he even has it.

He forgets it so much that once he walked around town with his tail pinned to the back of his jeans for a week before Stiles had the heart to tell him why people were giving him weird looks any time he went to the grocery store.

Or to firefighting school.

Or to _class_.

But Stiles figures that if Scott can ditch him to ride with his girlfriend, Stiles can make him suffer.

"Stiles is right," Allison says, leaning in to kiss Stiles' cheek. "You look really good in that bunny suit, by the way."

"Really?" Stiles raises an eyebrow at her before staring down at himself. "Do you think I should wear unitards more often?"

"Don't even think about it," and Stiles absolutely _does not_ yelp in surprise.

He doesn't.

No matter what Scott and Allison say.

"Lydia," Stiles clasps his hands together as she comes to stand beside him. "How wonderful seeing you here."

"Like you don't know I'm the one organizing this mess," Lydia waves a dismissive hand in front of her, eyes going from her iPad to Scott and Allison before stopping on Stiles. "You don't have a driver."

"You see-" Stiles starts, only to stop when Lydia narrows her eyes at him.

"I'm not the best cardio surgeon this hospital has just because I look amazing in scrubs," Lydia tells him, fingers tapping incessantly on the screen before her. "Give me a second and I'll find you someone."

Stiles scrunches his face up at her but doesn't say anything.

He knows better by now than to open his mouth and go against whatever Lydia is planning, and he has to admit that sooner or later he would have to accept his fate and go to her so she could find someone willing to let Stiles ride in the back of their bike.

For the millionth time Stiles wonders why he never bought a bike for himself.

And then his eyes rake over the parking lot and fall on the blue paint of his mother's Jeep and he doesn't have to wonder anymore.

Lydia is still going at it with her iPad, so he turns his attention back to Allison and Scott.

And laughs out loud.

Because right now Scott is staring at the ground looking utterly dejected while Allison pulls the back of his shirt up and pins the fake brown tail to the waistband of his pants.

Stiles wishes his costume had pockets so he could take out his cell and film this.

It's that golden.

Especially when Allison lets Scott's shirt fall down and crosses her arms over her chest, staring at him critically before saying, "Shake your hips a bit."

"_What_?"

Stiles takes back every mean thing he's ever thought about Scott since the moment he told him he was going to be riding with Allison, because this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"We need to see if it's pinned right," Allison explains, poking Scott on the back when he doesn't move. "Now shake it."

_Best thing_.

Scott presses his lips together, looking from Allison to his tail and back to Allison again.

Stiles can practically see the internal struggle from where he's standing.

And covering his mouth with his hand to hide his laughter is all he can do when Scott sighs and shakes his hips, the tail wiggling a little but remaining in place.

Seriously, _best_.

Allison nods her head in satisfaction, uncrossing her arms as she comes closer to Scott and leans in for a kiss.

Stiles doesn't fight the urge to roll his eyes at the both of them, turning his attention to Lydia.

"Did you find me someone?"

"I found you someone three minutes ago," Lydia smiles sweetly at him. "In the meantime, I now have video evidence of Scott wiggling his tail just because Allison asked him to."

"Did I mentioned that you're my favorite?" Stiles bats his lashes at her, because Lydia is just as beautiful as she is _terrifying_ and Stiles is so glad he's not in love with her anymore.

"Once or twice," and Stiles doesn't miss the way her lips curl up before she's all business again. "Now let's go. I need to introduce you to your new partner and make sure he's okay with driving your sorry ass around town."

"Hey," Stiles clutches at his imaginary pearls, mock-offended. "My ass is _not sorry_. It's a _fine ass_ and people would be lucky to drive it around town."

"You mistake me for someone who cares," Lydia flips her hair over her shoulders and turns on her heels, not even bothering to look back and see if Stiles is following.

Which he is, because he knows there's no winning when it comes to Lydia.

Only painful and horrible losses.

They walk further into the parking lot, and Stiles can't help but smile at the sheer number of people who showed up for the race. Some of them he recognizes from years past, waving whenever someone spots him or calls his name.

Which is why he's not paying that much attention when Lydia stops by the side of a bike and starts talking to the person straddling it.

That is until he hears someone say, "What kind of name is _Stiles_?"

And Stiles turns his head ready to give the guy a piece of his mind and say that _it's the kind of name that's mine_, only to stop before anything comes out of his open mouth.

Because this guy is _seriously_ attractive.

Like, awkward-boner-inducing attractive.

Even more so if Stiles considers the black bunny ears glued to the guy's helmet, his red-painted nose, and the whiskers drawn on his clean-shaven face.

But Stiles is not doing that, because that way lies madness and Stiles doesn't have time for this shit today.

He has eggs to deliver.

So he promptly snaps his mouth shut and glares at him.

Only to have Lydia roll her eyes at both of them and elbow Stiles in the stomach and whispering, "You can thank me later."

Stiles mentally crosses her name off his Christmas list.

"Derek, this is a Stiles. Stiles Stilinski," Lydia says, gesturing a hand in Stiles' direction. "Stiles, this is your ride. Derek Hale."

Stiles' brain gets stuck in the words_ this is your ride_ and all the images of him riding Derek on top of the bike for a few seconds.

And by the dangerous glint in Lydia's eyes, she knows exactly what kind of effect her words had on him.

Not that he can be blamed when he's faced with someone this _hot_.

Someone who's wearing _leather_.

And straddling a _bike_.

Thinking about the two of them having sex is a given, really.

And Lydia knows that.

She knows exactly what pairing Stiles with someone this hot would do to him, especially considering the fact that he hasn't had sex in seven months.

Stiles hates her a little right now.

"Well," Lydia drawls out, her tone dripping with fake sweetness. "Are you going to just stand there?"

Scratch that, he hates her _a_ _lot_ right now.

But he still swallows down the urge to stick his hands in her perfectly styled hair and mess it up, looks back at Derek, raises his fingers in an aborted wave, and says, "Hi."

"Hey," Derek says back, a ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips as his eyes rake down Stiles' body.

Or what he's wearing, really.

And by that he means his _bunny suit_.

Stiles doesn't know whether to be proud for being as committed to the run as he is or dying of embarrassment for having the first guy he's been remotely interested in in a while seeing him this way.

He puffs his chest and goes with pride, mostly because Derek doesn't have a foot to stand on if he decides to bark out insults at people dressed as bunnies, you know, considering his own nose is painted red and he has _whiskers_ drawn on his face with black sharpie.

But Stiles is pleasantly surprised and maybe a little flattered when all Derek does is widen that faint smile of his and gets this soft look on his face as he tilts his chin up at Stiles and says, "Nice costume."

Stiles bites back down the _nice face_ comeback ready to spill out of his mouth.

Instead he goes with a simple, "The kids like it," shrugging and scrubbing the back of his neck with one hand and trying to will his cheeks not to blush.

Neither of them say anything after that, Lydia's eyes going from Derek to Stiles before turning to her iPad as she says, "You two know how it goes. I take it I don't have to stay here and explain it all?"

"No need," Derek answers, shaking his head.

"You're free to go terrorize the newcomers," Stiles takes a little bow, ignoring the way his stomach flips when he sees Derek lower his head and run a hand over his face as if hiding a laugh.

"Cute," Lydia narrows her eyes at him before turning to Derek. "Whatever you do, don't let him eat whatever's left of the chocolates at the end of the run."

Stiles gapes at her, and he's pretty sure he looks just as betrayed and broken as he feels.

"Sugar rush?" is all Derek says, lips twitching up.

Stiles hasn't seen a full smile from Derek yet.

He figures that when he does it'll feel like being hit in the face with sunshine.

It will be bright and warm and it will _blind you_.

But the little twitch of his lips tell Stiles that he doesn't need to see Derek smile to know that he's _amused_ by all of this.

Or at least he _looks_ amused.

"I like you, Derek," Lydia says, eyes calculating.

"Thank you?" Derek blinks at her, shifting his weight from one leg to the other on the bike.

Stiles tries not to feel offended in Lydia's behalf when Derek's thanks comes out as a question.

They all know Derek hasn't known Lydia long enough to figure out that having her tell someone that she likes them is a big deal.

Stiles has been friends with her for years and he the most he ever got was a pat on the head and a smile.

On Jackson's 21st birthday.

She was drunk.

So Stiles just turns to Derek and tells him that "Yes, you are thankful."

Lydia pats him on the cheek for that one, "I'm still not letting you eat the leftover eggs."

"You wound me," Stiles pouts.

"I'll make sure he doesn't have any," Derek says when they both turn to him, Derek's eyebrows joining on the twitching along with his lips.

If Stiles had to take a guess, he'd say Derek looks _really fucking amused_ right now.

"Good," Lydia flips her hair over her shoulder, smiling sweetly at Derek before kissing Stiles on the cheek and saying, "Have fun, boys."

Stiles watches as she walks away, not even trying to contain a snort when one of the bikers comes up to talk to her, placing a hand on her arm, only to promptly get stabbed in the chest with a pen.

Stiles takes his eyes off of her in favor to stare at Derek, who's already staring back at him, his face carefully blank.

"So," Stiles says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is this your first time in the race?"

"No."

And, really?

That's all the answer Stiles gets?

"Really? That's all the answer I get?"

Derek just shrugs one shoulder, lips pressing together when Stiles raises both of his eyebrows at him.

Stiles tries desperately not to find him cute.

He's being a dick.

Dicks aren't supposed to be cute.

But Derek surprises him when he sighs and decides to put words together, "I used to come to them with my dad when I was young."

"Yeah?" Stiles asks, a little surprised by the casually shared info about Derek.

Not that there's anything casual about it, Stiles notices, taking in the way Derek's eyes go downward and his Adam's apple bobs as he says that, Stiles figures his dad must not be in the picture anymore.

He thinks about his mom.

About how much she would've loved being able to participate, but couldn't because she didn't even have enough strength to get up and go to the bathroom.

Stiles likes to think she would've been proud of him for doing this.

Derek keeps quiet again, going for answering Stiles' question with a nod of his head.

And Stiles thinks he understands a little bit of what Derek's going through.

Being here might bring Derek some painful memories, so it's no wonder he'd rather stay quiet than talking to Stiles.

Stiles takes it back.

Derek is not a dick.

And he's now 15% more endearing to him.

Which is why Stiles decides to share a little bit of himself with Derek, too.

"My mom," Stiles starts, hands fiddling with the sleeves of his suit so he doesn't have to stare directly at Derek. "She spent a lot of time here when she was sick, and the run was something that distracted me from that for a little while. It was something that helped make me feel like a little kid again."

When he takes his eyes off the parking lot ground to glance at Derek, Stiles finds him looking at him with the kind of sad and bitter understanding he wished nobody had. Because whenever someone looks at him like that Stiles knows that they get it, knows that they lost someone important too, and he wouldn't wish that for anybody.

So he sends Derek what he hopes to be a reassuring smile, trying to show him that yes, it sucks, but he's okay. He thinks it comes out grimmer than anything else, though, not that he should expect any other kind of facial expression when he's talking about his mom and how she's not alive anymore.

But Derek's answer to his failed attempt at make light of things is to lick his lips and tilt his chin up in acknowledgement.

And Stiles thinks he should feel guilty that the sight of Derek's pink tongue is enough to make him forget about his mom.

At least long enough for him to start thinking about Derek's tongue on him and how he would taste and if his lips are as soft as they look from where he's standing.

He shifts in place a little bit so Derek won't see his dick twitch.

Lydia's voice floods the parking lot just then, telling the riders to get to their respective places in line so the run can start.

Derek gives Stiles his spare helmet with white bunny ears glued to it, and at Stiles confused face he explains, "There's always someone who doesn't have a rider."

"You're lucky this goes with the rest of my suit," Stiles jokes, gesturing at himself.

He gets another lip twitch from Derek at that, the heavy air the was surrounding then disappears as they start to get ready and Stiles asks Derek to check his makeup for him.

"I need to know if my bunny face still stands," Stiles tells him seriously when Derek just gives him an exasperated look.

Stiles makeup is, in fact, standing.

"Your whiskers look a little shaky, though," Derek says, tapping one of his fingers against Stiles' left cheek.

"Don't mock the whiskers, man," Stiles bats his hand away. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to draw on yourself?"

"It's not that hard."

And Stiles knows deflection when he sees it. So he blinks at Derek and asks, "You did your own makeup, didn't you?"

He notices the way Derek's shoulders minutely tense before he forces himself to relax, his eyes raking over the parking lot before settling on Stiles.

Only to look back out at the other bikes when Derek gives him his most unimpressed stare.

"I might have had help," Derek admits, playing with the bunny ears glued to his helmet.

"_Might have_," Stiles repeats, trying really hard to keep his face blank and not collapse on himself giggling like an idiot over how _cute_ Derek looks right now.

"I had help," Derek admits, and Stiles can see the tip of his ears turning red.

"From whom?"

When Derek doesn't answer, Stiles assumes the worst.

Which is why he blurts out, "Your girlfriend?" before he can really stop himself.

Derek makes a face at him at that, a mixture between dread and disgust that immediately has Stiles asking, "Boyfriend?"

He's not ready for the way Derek's expression smooths out at that, only to be replaced by one of-

Could that be _embarrassment_?

"No boyfriend," Derek says shyly, fingers playing with the zipper of his jacket.

Yep, definitely embarrassment.

And Stiles doesn't know whether to be disappointed or grateful that Derek won't meet his gaze, because that way he doesn't see the delighted grin that breaks across Stiles' face from knowing Derek's _single_.

"Who was it, then?" Stiles teases, tongue poking out from between his teeth.

Derek looks even more uncomfortable, if that's possible, which only makes Stiles want to cup his face between his hands and kiss him.

Derek mutters something under his breath that Stiles doesn't quite catch, taking a step closer to Derek and leaning in a little, "What was that?"

There's a little more avoiding looking Stiles in the eye and fiddling with his zipper before Derek finally says, "My mother helped me."

Stiles' first instinct is to laugh.

Because Derek, who looks like he should be on a reality tv show about badass hot bikers, had his mom help him with his bunny gear.

But then he thinks about the way Derek looked and sounded when he talked about his dad and things don't sound too funny anymore.

"Your mom did a good job."

Derek finally glances up at him at that, eyes a little wide in surprise before they turn a shade warmer and he says, "Thanks."

"Think she could be persuaded to do mine next year?" Stiles asks, and then adds, "So I don't have shaky whiskers and all."

"I'll see what I can do," Derek says flatly, his amused only visible by the glint in his eyes.

"Maybe you could put in a good word for me," Stiles rocks on his heels. "Tell her how awesome of a riding partner I am."

Lydia's voice comes through the speakers again, letting them all know they have five more minutes to get their things together and get in place.

"I guess we'll see if you're as good as you think you are," Derek tells him, checking his helmet to make sure his ears are glued right.

"I'm even better," Stiles winks at him, ignoring the way his face heats when Derek just rolls his eyes at him before moving to check Stiles' helmet.

"Thanks, man," Stiles says when he's done, fiddling with the rest of his suit before putting on his helmet, closing the straps under his chin.

Derek gives him another one of his shrugs as he deals with his own helmet, turning to look at Stiles when he just stands there, doing nothing.

"Aren't you going to climb up?"

And Stiles feels his stomach drop as he realizes that climbing up means getting behind Derek.

With his crotch snuggled close to Derek's ass.

Holding on to him.

And just really being pressed up against his back as they ride.

Stiles really really tries to stay mad at Lydia, but when he looks at the inviting place right behind Derek on the bike, he can't muster up the energy.

Stiles stays where he is until Derek crosses his arms over his chest, and he doesn't even have to look at Derek to know he has both of his eyebrows raised.

So he braces a hand on Derek's shoulder, throws a leg over the bike, and immediately starts thinking about his dad and Scott's mom having sex.

Because Derek's back is warm against his chest and he smells like leather and wind and fucking pine needles and Stiles does not need a boner right now.

Really, he doesn't.

And he's so distracted by how _good_ Derek smells that he almost misses the horn marking the beginning of the race, winding his arms around Derek's waist and _holding the fuck on_ just in time for them to take off.

Stiles is not new to the feeling of riding with someone.

He's been doing it with Scott for years, so he knows to lean sideways at the curves and hold on if he doesn't want to slide off and ignore what the vibrations between his legs do to his dick.

He's learned to ignored all of that when he was riding with _Scott_, because Scott is his brother and he most certainly doesn't press back against him or pulls at his wrist so that he's holding on tighter or shifts the muscles of his stomach every time Stiles moves his hands.

When Derek touches his wrist for the third time in twenty minutes, Stiles might think that there's a real possibility that not only Derek likes guys but that he also likes _Stiles_. That he enjoys having Stiles against him, Stiles' arms around his waist, Stiles' hands on his stomach, Stiles' chin bumping lightly against Derek's shoulders every time Stiles turns his head to look at his right.

So it's no wonder that the first miles of riding with Derek are _hell_.

And Stiles has no idea how he's supposed to be delivering chocolate eggs to children when it's possible that his suit won't be able to hide the semi he's sporting.

The worst part of this whole thing is that, for two hours, they don't stop.

The race is organized in a way so the riders will pass by the most crowded places of Beacon Hills before going back to the hospital. It brings more money for the charity that way, if people can see them and wave at them when they're getting out of work or going grocery shopping or picking their kids up at school.

Stiles holds himself as still as possible so Derek won't feel how much Stiles is enjoying this particular ride, distracting himself from his blue balls by waving at the people walking down the sidewalk, making faces to little kids, and yelling out a "Hi, Dad!" when they drive by the police station and he can see his dad coming out of his car.

It's not until they get to the firehouse and the entire battalion comes out to support the riders, some of them screaming "Looking good, Stiles!", that Stiles can feel the vibrations of Derek laughing under his hands.

He's glad he's sitting behind Derek right now, so that way Derek can't see his cheeks flush and his smile curl into a an embarrassed smile.

But he still doesn't hesitate to poke Derek in the ribs for laughing at him, cursing himself when that makes Derek shift in place and slide back closer to Stiles.

_And_ that's Derek's ass pressed against Stiles' crotch.

Where Stiles' dick is.

Half hard.

Stiles takes a minute to thank the gods of the highway when the little choked-up moan he lets out gets washed away by the roar of the bikes next to them.

And Derek doesn't move.

Well, except for pinching the back of Stiles' hand in retaliation, he doesn't move.

He doesn't make any effort to slide down the bike and go back to sitting the way he was before. He just stays there, ass to crotch and back to chest, like he can't feel the quickly hardening line of Stiles' cock pressed against him.

Stiles swallows hard.

This isn't going the way he planned.

Not that he had time to plan anything other than getting this race done with and dragging Derek to one of the hospital's supply closet and going down on him.

And then maybe invite him to dinner.

And this isn't helping Stiles' _situation_.

So he settles for paying attention to the riders around them, the wind on his face, on putting itching powder on Scott's firefighter gear, and plotting Lydia's murder.

But after a while his focus narrows down to all the points of contact he and Derek have between them when they're like this, the warmth of him, the feel of him, the scent of him, and how fucking _amazing_ it is to have him between Stiles' spread thighs.

And now Stiles wishes they could just take a left on the next street and stop by one of the coffee shops, buy themselves a cup, sit down on a booth, and talk.

You know, get to know each other.

And then get to know each other _naked_.

And have _orgasms_ together.

His hands spasm against Derek's stomach, his legs clinging tighter to him and the bike as he bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from making a sound, and Stiles could _swear_ he feels Derek lean back a little further against his chest.

Not that he has time to figure out if that really happened, considering they're already driving back to the hospital and soon he'll have to face little kids and their hunger for chocolate.

And their parents' love for guys in bunny suits.

Stiles doesn't want to talk about it.

He's been hit on and traumatized enough times by now.

And if it wasn't for how much all the kids seem to like his costume, he would have chopped it to pieces a long time ago.

They drive around Beacon Hills pressed close together, not really making any attempts to pass the other bikers and win the race.

Stiles has the feeling that this isn't about winning for Derek.

It's about helping people and giving little kids something to look for, something to make them happy about and smile and get their minds off whatever it is that's keeping them locked in sterilized hospital rooms.

Much like it is for him.

When he and Scott were kids they never really got any eggs for themselves, which Stiles supposes is fair, considering they weren't _in_ the hospital, just _at_ the hospital, visiting his mom.

They'd see the commotion from Stiles' mom's hospital room and beg Mrs. McCall or the Sheriff to take them down to the parking lot and see the start of the run. Once people saw the two little boys vibrating with excitement, they'd waste no time in getting bunny ears for them to wear and drawing on their noses and cheeks so they could join in on the fun.

And that's why Stiles always makes a point of having this day off and participating on the run. So he can give other kids the much needed break they sometimes need in their lives.

He must be clinging closer to Derek as he thinks that, because next thing he knows he has a warm hand covering his own, fingers brushing lightly over his knuckles and squeezing his wrist before letting go.

Stiles smiles a little and, wondering if he's reading this right, bumps his chin against Derek's shoulder in silent thanks, going back to watching his surroundings.

Not before feeling Derek relax in front of him, though.

And now, since he's not thinking about sad things anymore, he has time to think about _Derek_.

And how much he wants to sleep with him.

Or at least get a chance to.

He comes up with so many scenarios about him and Derek having sex that he almost misses the green dirt bike coming up beside them on the street.

The reason he doesn't miss it is because Allison takes one look at his suit and starts waving a hand around like she's going to die if Stiles doesn't see her, and Derek ends up bringing an elbow back and hitting Stiles in the ribs.

He's so startled that he almost falls of the bike, saved by the iron grip Derek suddenly has on his arm, pulling Stiles to him.

When Stiles turns to wave back at Allison he takes one look at the way her head is tilted to the side and the dangerous glint in her eyes and he knows he's going to be hearing about this later.

Especially when Scott's eyes rake past him only for him to do a double take, going from Stiles to the way he's clinging to Derek's waist. And then he smiles and lets go on the bike with one hand to give him a thumbs-up.

Stiles' _friends_, seriously.

And then there's Derek, head turned to the side in silent question as he takes in the exchange.

Stiles shrugs one shoulder, hoping Derek will feel the movement against his back and let it be for now.

He does.

The rest of the race goes by without anything too exciting happening.

And by _too exciting_ it means that with the exception of a few riders who run out of gas half way through the race and a couple who crashes into a bench when the driver's bunny ears fall on his face, everything is pretty chill.

Stiles continues to think about all the ways he wants Derek to sex him up, not really paying attention to where they're going until the hospital comes into view.

He tries not to feel disappointed when Derek parks the bike, because that means he doesn't have an excuse to touch Derek anymore.

At least not an easy one.

Stiles still lingers a little after they stop, mentally checking himself to make sure his suit will cover everything that needs covering - meaning: _his dick_ - once he finally gets off the bike.

He gets his hands on Derek's shoulders when he climbs off, thumbs resting against the soft skin on the back of Derek's neck. He thinks Derek shudders at his touch, and Stiles can't really help but smile smugly to himself when he sees the back of Derek's neck start to flush.

Yeah, he's reading this right.

They both take off their helmets at the same time and run their hands through their hairs, Derek's matted to his forehead while Stiles' sticks up everywhere.

"Come on," Stiles says when Derek doesn't move. "We need to get the eggs and go around spreading joy."

He turns on his back, but not before he can hear Derek mutter, "Wanted to spread something else."

Stiles trips.

That's the only acceptable action to what he just heard.

_Tripping_.

Because Derek wants to _spread something else_.

And please let that something else be Stiles, spread over Derek's bed or Derek's bike or Derek's back.

He's not picky.

What he is, though, is currently on his way to falling face down on the floor.

That is until Derek's suddenly _there_, behind him, his hands gripping Stiles upper arms and pulling him back against Derek's chest.

As soon as Stiles had his balance back, he steps back.

He knows what being close to Derek does to him, and he can't go and be around kids with a semi.

There are laws against that.

Stiles should know, his dad is the Sheriff.

So he quickly glances back at Derek's face, the way his brows are coming together in a frown, before saying, "Lets go, big guy. We have work to do."

Stiles notices how stiff Derek's posture is as they get their respectives Easter baskets from a volunteer near the hospital entrance, each of them containing ten chocolate eggs, and go to work.

He figures it's because, although he is here and he is helping, Derek doesn't like hospitals.

Stiles knows he must have looked the same way the first few times he had to come back here after his mom died.

He chooses not to say anything about it to Derek, though. He knows he didn't like when people wanted to talk to him about what happen, so he extends him the same courtesy.

Instead, Stiles nods at people he knows while they walk around the hallways to their destination, stopping to hug and kiss Scott's mom on the cheek when he sees she's on shift.

That earns him an inquisitive raised eyebrow from Derek, who so far hasn't open his mouth to ask Stiles anything he wants to know or even make an off-comment about the doctor that just ran past then with his scrubs covered in puke.

"She's my best friend's mom," Stiles tells him anyway. "_And_ she's dating my dad."

Derek gives him a nod, and Stiles takes that as permission to keep going.

If Derek doesn't want to fill the silence, he will.

"My best friend was the one in the green dirt bike that gave us the thumbs us. I was also supposed to be riding with him, by the way, so if you want to blame someone for getting stuck with me he's the one you should talk to," Stiles says, getting on the elevator. "He's a firefighter at the same station I'm an EMT at and his girlfriend is a trauma doctor here at the ER. I guess today was the first day off they had at the same time in _forever_, so when she heard he was going to be on the race, she asked if she could ride with him."

"So here you are," Derek says as they get to their floor and the elevator doors open.

Before they can step out Stiles grabs Derek by the arm and says, "I can't let you go in there without warning you first."

Derek blinks at him, "Warning me about what?"

"The moms," Stiles whispers.

"The moms," Derek deadpans, only to have Stiles put a hand over his mouth and hiss, "_They'll hear you_."

Derek's eyebrows are at his hairline by the time Stiles realizes he's covering Derek's lips with the palm of his hand, but he still doesn't let go.

He can't let Derek in there without proper warning.

If he wants to take him out and fuck him with their bunny makeup still on, then Stiles needs to make sure he won't get traumatized first.

"They're _vicious_," Stiles says, leaning in conspiratorially and keeping his voice low. "They take one look at good-looking seemingly single young men and wait for them to be distracted by the kids before they _attack_."

Stiles ignores the way he can feel Derek's lips move against his hand, because this is _important_.

"And by attack I mean feeling you up when you're not looking or cornering you right as you're leaving and propositioning you by asking if bunnies really do fuck nonstop."

Stiles notices the terrified gleam in Derek's eyes as he says this, and now that he knows he's been taken seriously he lets his hand drop to his side.

"Do they really do that?" Derek asks, voice cracking at the end.

"Yes," Stiles nods, raising a hand when Derek opens his mouth again. "I can tell you all about moms squeezing my tail and asking me how big my carrot is some other time, but first I need you to understand how dangerous they are."

Derek licks his lips before looking from the basket he's carrying back to the hallway in front of them.

"If you promise to let me eat the eggs that we don't deliver," Stiles starts, refusing to squirm at the way Derek's eyes narrow at this. "Then I'll promise not to leave you alone long enough for one of them to get to you."

"I think I can handle a few moms," Derek says, but Stiles can hear the underlying uncertainty in his voice.

Fuck, Stiles really wanted those eggs.

Which is why he crosses his arms over his chest and gives Derek his most condescending look, "Oh, _can you_?"

Stiles has to say he's enjoying teasing Derek.

He likes the way the tip of Derek's ears turn red, his eyes glancing everywhere and never staying at one point for too long, his fingers tapping a random beat against his thigh, and his absolute _refusal_ to give in and admit defeat.

"I'll be fine," Derek answers, scowling down at his basket.

Stiles snorts at him, rolling his eyes. "Don't come asking me for help when you're getting bad touched by soccer moms."

"I said I'll be _fine_."

Stiles raises his hands in surrender, "Alright, dude. Whatever you say."

Derek just directs his scowl at him before turning on his back and walking down the hallway to where they're supposed to meet the kids, not looking back to see if Stiles is following.

Stiles isn't, by the way.

He's too busy covering his mouth with his hands to keep the squeal he wants to let out in.

Because Derek _scowling_ at him while wearing _bunny ears_ and having _whiskers_ drawn on his face is adorable, okay?

So Stiles waits for a few seconds until he doesn't feel the need to coo at Derek anymore before trailing behind, making sure to check his suit and bunny ears as he's walking.

He's still mourning the loss of his leftover chocolate eggs when he gets to the room the kids are supposed to be.

He just has time to plaster a smile on his face before they're both crossing the threshold and being jumped by little screaming kids, all of them wearing their own set of ears and bunny makeup.

Stiles tries not to melt into a puddle on the ground, but he doesn't think he's that successful.

Not when he bends down to hug and kiss the kids closer to him, leaving Derek to deal with his own little army as they try to walk further inside the room.

There are parents leaning against the windows and walls with their phones out, filming the scene with a grin on their faces, and Stiles can almost make out a few moms who get that dangerous gleam in their eyes as they watch both of them interacting with their kids.

Not that Stiles is any better when he turns his head to talk to Derek and promptly forgets everything he is going to say.

Two seconds ago all Stiles wanted out of life was Derek's dick up his ass.

And now he has _this_.

Derek with a little girl dressed as a bunny princess on his arm, snuggled close to his chest, trying to place her tiara on top of Derek's head.

If Stiles thought that Derek trying to look angry at him while dressed as a bunny was cute, than this has _nothing_ on that.

This is _cuteness overload_.

This is _too much_.

This is _cause of death: Derek wearing a tiara_.

So Stiles swallows hard, shakes his head to clear all images of what his and Derek's kids would look like, and goes back to the children.

He wastes no time in calling them all out closer to him and asking from them to sit in a circle, trying to ignore the way Derek just smiles a little at him as he takes his place next to a little boy with blue bunny ears and missing his front teeth.

"Now," Stiles clasps his hands in front of him, wrinkling his nose when everyone turns their attention to him. "Who wants some chocolate eggs?"

It's pure chaos from then on.

Stiles grabs his basket and makes sure each kid gets an egg, all the while keeping an eye out for the moms who seem to be smiling a little too broad whenever he bends down to give one of the kids a hug or their chocolate.

Derek waits until Stiles' basket is empty before getting up and starting on his, ruffling little boys' hairs and waving his fingers at little girls and grinning at everybody.

That is until he stops right in front of a mom and bends over to talk to a kid.

Stiles doesn't think he'll ever forget the full body twitch Derek gives, muscles tensing, smiling freezing in place.

He also thinks he'll have nightmares about the wicked grin one of the moms has on her face, and the way she brings the hand that a second ago was groping Derek up to her throat and how she licks her lips as her eyes zero in on Derek's ass.

Stiles goes as far as taking a step forward to try and save Derek from the clutches of single moms, but then he remembers how Derek told him he could _handle it_ and that he'd be _fine_. So he just blows him a kiss when Derek lifts his head up to look at him and pleads for help with his eyes.

He knows he's being an asshole, but it's that just those chocolate eggs are _really good_.

Half an hour later and they're done, Derek's basket with three eggs left, both of them worn out from playing with the children for almost two hours, and Stiles sharing the horrors that were a few of the moms.

They have equally little pleased smiles on their faces as they gather their things and make their way out of the room.

Or at least Stiles does, because when he looks back over his shoulder to talk to Derek he sees that Derek's currently being crowded up against a wall by the mom who felt him up earlier.

Stiles thinks about pretending he didn't see anything and going on his merry way, but when he sees the pure terror on Derek's face he takes a deep breath, braces himself, starts walking, and really hopes he doesn't get punched in the face.

"Hey, babe," Stiles says as he plasters himself to Derek's side, widing an arm around his waist and hooking his fingers through one of Derek's belt loops. "You ready to go?"

Derek just blinks at him for a couple of seconds before setting his hand on the back of Stiles' neck, lips twitching up as his ears redden and he leans in and says, "Yeah, sure."

They just stare at each other then, Stiles holding himself as still as possible so he doesn't give in to his desire to close the distance between them and brush his lips to Derek's.

"Well," and the mom who was about to molest Derek actually looks a little embarrassed. "I just wanted to say that you two did a wonderful job with the kids."

_Yeah, right_.

"You don't have to thanks us, ma'am," Stiles smiles charmingly at her. "You and the other parents have wonderful kids. Don't you think so, honey?"

"I do," Derek says, not breaking his gaze from Stiles. "I wonder if our kids are going to be half as cute as theirs."

Stiles entire body tenses, fingers clutching tightly at the material of Derek's jacket as he swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and forces himself to smile, "Please. With you for a dad they won't be anything less than amazing."

"Aw," the woman coos at them, eyes shiny and bright. "By what we saw today with the children, I'm sure you'll make great parents."

Stiles ignores the way his stomach flips at that, settling for keeping his smile on his face and looking at anywhere but Derek.

"Thank you," Derek tells her. "That's very nice of you."

"No worries," she waves a hand in front of her. "Well, I should get back. It was nice meeting you. And thank you for today, really."

"You're welcome," they both say in unison, watching as she walks back into the room.

Derek doesn't let go of him until they're getting inside the elevator, thumb rubbing circles against the skin of Stiles' neck as they wait for the door to close, but Stiles can feel the rigid muscles of Derek's back against his hand and see the way his lips are pressed together in a thin line.

As soon as it does Stiles steps back, crossing his arms over his chest and continuing to stare anywhere but at Derek.

Because he doesn't know what he's feeling, doesn't know what this little ball of warmth in his chest means, doesn't know why it melted his heart into a puddle of goo when he was close to Derek.

"Stiles?"

Stiles startles so bad he ends up hitting his elbow on the wall, hissing as the pain creeps up his entire arm up to his shoulder.

"Fucking hell," Stiles swears under his breath, rubbing his elbow.

Or trying to, until he feels a hand wrap around his upper arm while the other holds him right under his elbow.

And that's Derek, rubbing his fingers against Stiles' arm.

Touching him.

And there's the little warmth spreading through his chest and down his arms to the point where Derek's hands are on him and _this needs to stop_.

Especially when Derek leans close, staring at him with genuine concern on his hazel eyes, and asks, "You okay?"

And Stiles can't handle this, okay?

He's reached his limit.

There's only so much sexual frustration one guy can take before _he breaks_.

So Stiles pulls his arm back from Derek's warm hands and cradles it against his chest, "Yeah, dude. I'm fine."

"You sure?" Derek asks, not looking convinced.

"Yep," Stiles says, popping the 'p'. "Not the first time I hit a wall."

Derek arches an eyebrow at him, bringing his hand up to touch Stiles again only to have Stiles step back and plaster himself against the wall.

Stiles swallows hard when a flash of hurt and confusion pass over Derek's face, taking a deep breath before saying, "I'm okay. Really. It doesn't even hurt anymore."

Derek just stares at him, nodding his head when he figures Stiles must be telling the truth.

But the silence between them doesn't feel comfortable anymore. It feels awkward and stiff and _there_, making itself known with the way Derek glares at the floor and Stiles goes back to looking at anywhere but him.

"I'm sorry about that," Stiles says, breaking the silence because he can't _take it_ anymore. "I mean, about pretending to be your boyfriend. I just saw how horrified you looked and I thought that the fastest way to get you away from her was to pretend we were together."

"That's okay," Derek answers, clearing his throat. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Stiles nods.

His eyes are glued to the elevator panel, so he misses the way Derek's brows furrow, the hard line of his mouth, the way he crosses his arms across his chest, shifts on his heels, and stares at Stiles like he has no idea what the fuck is going on.

Stiles is the first one to step outside the elevator and start walking towards the volunteer collecting the empty baskets, Derek a silent presence behind him.

They still don't talk as they make their way to the parking lot, Stiles trying to come up with a way to make things okay between them again.

Because he so desperately wants things to be okay between them.

He wants things to be _so fucking okay_ between them that when he gathers enough courage to ask Derek out, he'll say yes.

But he can't think of anything to say, and the closer they get to where Derek's bike is parked the less Stiles can come up with anything.

And then Derek's walking in front of him, stopping, and then turning on his heels so he's standing directly in front of Stiles, his bunny ears perched dangerously low on his head.

"Here," and Derek's grabbing Stiles' wrist and dropping something in the palm of his hand. "You can have them."

"I-" Stiles looks from the three chocolate eggs he's now holding to Derek and back to the eggs again, thinking _what is this_ and_ does this mean he likes me_ and _should I offer him one_. "Thank you," is what Stiles says instead, smiling softly.

"Sure," Derek grunts, throwing a leg over his bike and zipping up his jacket.

"No, really, thank-," Stiles gets interrupted by Derek starting the bike, and he just has time to yell, "See you later!" before Derek is putting on his helmet and driving off without looking back.

And without giving Stiles any time to ask for his phone number.

Well,_ fuck_.

* * *

"So, who was that guy Lydia got you riding with?"

Stiles can't really help the dreamy little sigh he lets out when he thinks about Derek.

That's all he's being doing lately, you know, thinking about Derek.

About why he was acting so weird by the time they were done with the race and about how cute he looked as a bunny and about how hot it felt to be pressed up against him when they were riding the bike and about how _sad_ it is that Stiles didn't even get his phone number.

He even went as far as begging Lydia to give it to him, since he knows everyone register to the race has to fill in a form and give them a contact number.

Lydia said no.

And then she called him pathetic.

"I gave you the perfect opportunity for you to do something about it," Lydia says, her tone serious. "If you screwed up, that's not my problem."

Stiles doesn't know why he's friends with her, really.

So when he and Scott are at Scott's mom's house waiting for the Weekly McCall-Stilinski Dinner to commence and Scott asks him about Derek, Stiles sighs.

"That was Derek," Stiles says absentmindedly, watching as Mrs. McCall starts bringing the food out and his dad finishes setting the table.

"Derek...?" Scott looks at him expectantly.

Stiles opens his mouth only to snap it back shut, because he doesn't _remember_.

He remembers feeling like he got punched in the gut when he laid eyes on him, but he doesn't remember if Lydia told him Derek's last name.

"Stiles?"

Stiles shakes his head at Scott, feeling a little bit sick. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I don't remember his last name."

Scott just blinks at him, "Really."

"_Really_," Stiles snaps at him. "I was distracted, okay? Like you get whenever Allison wears that black strapless dress with no back that she has."

"Yeah," Scott's eyes glaze over. "She looks beautiful."

"Ugh," Stiles drops his head to the table.

"No using furniture as weapons during dinner," the Sheriff scolds him as he and Mrs. McCall join them on the table.

"Sorry," Stiles mumbles, smoothing the wrinkles on the tablecloth with his hand.

"What's gotten into you?" Scott's mom asks him as she serves Stiles' dad a healthy portion of carrots and spinach, kissing him on the cheek when he makes a face at his plate.

"Stiles is in love," Scott pipes up, dodging to the side when Stiles throws a napkin at him and yells, "I'm not!"

"Who's the lucky girl?" the Sheriff asks, completely ignoring his son's protests that _he's not in love_. "Or guy?"

"His name is Derek," Scott answers before Stiles can open his mouth, smirking when Stiles turns to glare at him.

"Derek...?" Mrs. McCall waves a hand in front of her.

"Stiles doesn't remember his last name."

And that's it.

Stiles is firing Scott as his best friend.

"I'm firing you as my best friend."

Scott just grins at him, "No, you're not."

"So, Stiles," the Sheriff starts. "How did you two meet?"

When no one answers Stiles turns to Scott and asks, "Aren't you going to go ahead and answer that for me, too?"

Scott takes a sip of his beer, shrugs one shoulder and says, "Okay," before going on about how Allison wanted to be on the race so Stiles had to get Lydia to find him another driver, and when Scott drove by him during the run Stiles was, "kind of sitting really close to him? Like, glued to his back? That's why I didn't really recognize him at first. I just thought they were a really fat dude."

"Half-dressed in a bunny suit?" Stiles raises an eyebrow at him.

Scott shrugs.

"So you're in love with this Derek person," Scott's mom chimes in, getting them back on track.

"Guy," Scott says, snickering when Stiles murmurs, "Hot Guy. On a bike."

He's so busy glaring down at this plate that he doesn't really notice that everyone's staring at him until he serves himself of some of Mrs. McCall's lasagna.

"What?" Stiles asks, sounding defensive.

Anyone in his place would be, too, if they were suddenly faced with Scott's mom's nurse face and his dad's I Am The Sheriff expression and Scott's shit-eating grin.

"I'm not in love with him," Stiles denies, ignoring that neither of them even asked him if he was.

"That's good," the Sheriff eyes him dubiously. "Because for what I can tell you've only met him once. Talked to him twice."

"There's a special bond that's formed when you save someone from the clutches of soccer moms," Scott informs them, getting a pat on the back from Stiles and a hissed, "Scott", from his mom. "Plus, Stiles doesn't believe in love at first sight."

This, right there, is why Scott is Stiles' best friend.

He doesn't hesitate to lie in front of their parents about something _everyone_ knows it's true. Because when you grow up seeing the love his dad and his mom had only to get older and see your best friend have the same kind of relationship with a girl, it kind of makes you a believer.

So he knows his voice sounds weak when he says, "That's right."

And that's why it only takes an offended look from his dad for him to come clean about it.

"Okay, that's a lie. We all know it's a lie and that I do believe in love at first sight, but," Stiles trails off, focusing his gaze on his lap before he keeps going. "I'm not in love with him. Not really. I don't know him well enough, or at all, to have those kinds of feelings for him, but I like him. And yeah, maybe we really did only met once and didn't talk much, but I like what I saw. And I'd like to see more of it, get to know him, take him out for coffee and find out when he started riding and if he likes strawberry ice cream and if he asked him mom for help drawing his bunny whiskers or if she offered."

No one says anything after that.

Scott gives him a nod, Mrs. McCall smiles softly at him, and his dad stares at him like he knows something Stiles doesn't. They go back to eating dinner and talking about lighter topics like Scott being called to rescue Mrs. Agnes cat from a tree, Mrs. McCall finding new nursing shoes at half-price in a store downtown, the Sheriff winning a pool at the station on how long it'd get Officer Mills to get off his ass and finally ask the new dispatch lady out.

No one comments when Stiles doesn't offer his own story.

It's not until after they've eaten desert and Scott is drying the dishes Stiles washed that his dad finds him sitting on the porch, hands loosely clasped together over his stomach, thinking about what he'd do when he saw Derek again.

His dad sits beside him but doesn't say anything, settling for resting his hands against the top of Stiles' head like he did when Stiles was little.

"You know," the Sheriff says, staring straight ahead. "Beacon Hills is not that big of a town. I'm sure you'll see him again."

Stiles just presses his lips together, leans his head back against his dad's hand and hopes to hell his dad is right.

* * *

Stiles didn't really think that the next time he would see Derek would be because Derek was in a bike accident and Stiles was the EMT on call.

Nope.

He had hoped for a more agreeable scenario, with Stiles not in a bunny costume or at work and Derek not being bad touched my single moms or possibly _dying_ and where they'd both be going out to dinner somewhere and then going back to Stiles' place so they could take off all of their clothes and fuck each other until they couldn't move anymore.

Until they couldn't move anymore _because_ they were so fucked out and spent that even a trip to the bathroom to grab a wet cloth to clean themselves up would be too much, and _not because_ one of them was currently in a neck brace and being loaded into an ambulance to be driven to the hospital due to get a CAT-scan because he had been in a bike accident and had a _concussion_.

At least Stiles got a last name, though.

Hale.

Derek _Hale_.

And he can't really say he's disappointed by this turn of events when Derek finally wakes up, takes one look at him, and slurs out, "Bunny."

Stiles tries not to choke on his own spit or look delightfully surprised at this.

By the way Danny looks at him from the rearview mirror and raises an eyebrow, he doesn't succeed.

"Hey, big guy," Stiles gives Derek a small smile as he focuses on checking his vitals and making sure Derek's brains aren't leaking out of his ears. "I didn't think you'd remember me."

Derek blinks owlishly at him before narrowing his eyes and saying, "I remember."

"Well," Stiles licks his lips, ignoring the way his stomach flips because this is _wrong_ and Derek is _injured_ and this is _not the time to be flirting with him_. "That's good. So do you also remember what I do for a living?"

"You're pretty," Derek blinks a couple more times, raising his left hand and gesturing wildly to Stiles' face or any part of the ambulance around him. "Really pretty."

Stiles opens his mouth only to close it again when he hears Danny choking on a laugh from the driver's seat.

And it's not like he knows what to say to that, at least not when he's supposed to be making sure Derek doesn't die on his way to the hospital.

Now, if they were on that date Stiles wants them to be, things would be different.

Like, Stiles probably would have jumped him by now.

So he settles for blushing and clicking his tongue before saying, "Thank you."

And just as he's about to keep going Derek answers, "You're welcome, Bunny."

Stiles presses his lips together in a thin line and feels torn between wanting to coo or die of embarrassment.

Judging by the way he can hear Danny laughing from the front of the ambulance he knows he should choose the latter. Because there's no doubt in Stiles' mind that as soon as they leave Derek in the capable hands of the Beacon Hills Hospital staff, Danny will be texting all of their friends to let them know about all of this.

"Well, Derek," Stiles tries again, ignoring the way Derek's face softens and his lips twitch up when Stiles says his name. "I'm an EMT and you're in my ambulance."

Derek was pretty out of it when Stiles and Danny got to the scene, his bike a mangled mess in the middle of the road and Derek stretched out on the sidewalk unconscious and with his helmet thrown to the side as the police tried to keep people away from the scene.

"Ambulance?" Derek repeats, wrinkling his nose.

"Yes," Stiles nods encouragingly, trying not to find him adorable and _failing_. "Do you remember what happened?"

Derek takes a few seconds to answer, brow furrowed in what could be concentration.

Or pain.

Stiles is not really sure.

"Bike accident?"

Stiles nods again, letting himself feel a little relieved that Derek possibly remembers what happened to him.

"That's right," Stiles says. "You were in a bike accident."

"Head hurts," Derek mumbles.

"You have a concussion, buddy," Stiles tells him. "Your helmet did a good job, but your brains still got a little scrambled when you fell off the bike."

"I liked you on my bike," Derek says, completely oblivious to the way Stiles almost chokes on his tongue and Danny starts laughing again. "Behind me."

Stiles fights the urge to fist pump when Danny is the one to choke on his own spit, but mostly because he's too busy thinking about the implications of what Derek is admitting to when he's _concussed_.

"You have a really nice bike," is what Stiles ends up blurting out for a lack of having a decent response to what Derek said.

"Your face is nice," Derek slurs at him. "Your nose. Your moles."

"Derek-" and Stiles doesn't know whether he wants Derek to _stop forever oh my god_ or just _keep going yes please_.

Not that he really has a choice in the end when Derek says, "Your mouth is the nicest."

Stiles doesn't think he's ever been happier when Danny croaks out in a strangled voice that, "We're here."

He's never been more disappointed, either.

But he focuses on helping Danny open the back door of the ambulance and wheel Derek out, listening to Danny tell the nurses and doctor that are waiting for them in front of the hospital what happened.

"Hands, too."

"He hurt his hands?" the doctor reaches for Derek's left and hand lifts it.

"No, he-" Danny tries, only to be interrupted by Derek saying, "Bunny's hands are nice."

"Oh, god," Stiles groans, wondering that he did in his past lives to deserve _this_.

"You didn't mention he's hallucinating," the doctor narrows her eyes at both Danny and Stiles.

"He's not," Stiles shakes his head, swallowing hard before saying, "I'm Bunny."

"I like you, Bunny," Derek says from his place on the stretcher. "And your face."

"And his hands," Danny pipes up, earning a glare from Stiles.

"Yes," Derek tries to nod, only to be stopped by the neck brace he's still wearing. "Nice hands. And arms. Wrapped around me. On my bike."

Stiles tries.

He really does.

But he can't help they way his lips twitch up when Derek keeps blinking and smiling at him.

And then the doctor clears her throat and all the guilt comes crashing down, because Derek is lying in a stretcher and he's at the hospital and he's _hurt_ and Stiles shouldn't be thinking he's about the cutest person he's ever seen.

"Right," Stiles licks his lips, nodding at the people around them before tipping his head back down to talk to Derek. "I have to go now, but these people here are going to make sure everything's okay with you, alright Derek?"

"You're leaving?" Derek's brows furrow at that, the lines of his mouth hardening.

"Yeah, buddy," Stiles says, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat because Derek looks so fucking _fragile_ and _vulnerable_ and _concussed_ that all Stiles wants is to stay here with him until he's okay. "I have to go back to work."

"Come back?" Derek asks him, his voice much more clear and steady in those two words than they have been so far.

And Stiles knows this is a fight he's not going to win, not even when he doesn't know if Derek will remember any of this when he's cleared to sleep without someone waking him up every hour.

Because ever since getting that call at the fire station and getting in the ambulance, to drive out and find out that it was _Derek_ that was in an accident and it was _Derek_ that was injured, Stiles knows that he's fucked.

_Majorly_ fucked.

Because he really meant it when he said he wants to get to know Derek. They might have only seen each other twice now, but Stiles liked what he saw at the hospital. It was enough to make him want to see more, to know more, to find out more things about Derek.

Derek _Hale_.

So when Derek asks him to come back, all Stiles can say is, "Yeah, I'll come back."

Because he will.

Even if Derek had spent the entire ambulance ride to the hospital listing all of the reasons why Stiles is the most annoying human being in Beacon Hills, Stiles still would have stopped by the hospital to make sure Derek was okay.

Because again, Stiles doesn't _know_ Derek, not really, but he'd like to.

"Good," Derek licks his lips, giving Stiles one last smile before saying, "See you later, Bunny."

Stiles rolls his eyes at that, smiling despite himself. "See you later, big guy."

Stiles forces himself not to look back as they wheel Derek away and he and Danny make their way back to the ambulance.

Not that he thinks he's going to be able to keep quiet judging by the way Danny keeps glancing at him as they walk.

He manages to avoid the interrogation until they close the doors of the ambulance and climb back up, Danny in the driver's seat while Stiles hops in the passenger side.

"So," Danny starts. "What was that all about, _Bunny?_"

Stiles pulls the door shut and turns to make a face at Danny, "How hard do I have to grovel at your feet to ask you not to tell that to anyone?"

"There isn't enough time in the world," Danny smiles at him, dimples and all.

"Thank you, Satan," Stiles deadpans.

"You're welcome," Danny tilts his chin up at him, starting the ambulance and driving off from the hospital. "But really, what was that all about?"

"Remember the Egg Run?" Stiles asks, waiting for Danny to nod his assent before he continues. "Well, you know that Scott was supposed to ride with me."

"But he went with Allison instead," Danny fills in.

"Yes," Stiles says, pursing his lips together because he knows he's not going to like having to say this. "And do you remember me mentioning a Hot Biker Guy?"

"Hot Biker Guy with perfectly sculpted facial hair and hazel eyes and chiseled chest and a facial bone structure that makes you want to swan dive into a volcano?"

Stiles blames Scott for that one, because as soon as he go to the firehouse the next day he told everyone about Stiles' little predicament.

"Yep," Stiles says, waving a hand in front of him. "That was Derek."

"Derek?"

"Yep."

"Hot Biker Guy was Derek?"

"Yes."

"Derek who calls you Bunny?"

"In the flesh."

"Because the first time you two met you were wearing that ugly bunny suit you insist on not throwing away," Danny says in a tone like he now understands the meaning of life.

"Hey," Stiles shouts, punching Danny in the shoulder as Danny yells, "No hitting the driver!"

"I will if he keeps offending my awesome costume," Stiles sniffs at him, settling back on his seat when Danny just rolls his eyes at him.

They drive in silence for a few seconds, that is until Danny opens his mouth and says, "Well, it clearly worked for Derek."

"Oh my god, I hate you so much," Stiles says, throwing his head back and staring at the ambulance ceiling. "I'm going to ask the Chief to change partners."

"Like Finstock would let you ride with Greenberg," Danny snorts.

"Ugh, why is this my _life_?" Stiles whines, screwing his eyes shut.

"You love me," Danny shrugs. "Don't even try to deny it."

"If it wasn't for our sacred EMT bond created over strangers' spilled blood and puke and other body fluids I don't like to think about, I would have ran you over with this ambulance a long time ago."

"That's a vivid image," Danny chances a glance at him before turning his eyes back on the road. "But you're still not denying it."

"One of these days I'm going to poison your coffee."

"Jackson will kill you."

"Lydia will kill _him_," Stiles raises an eyebrow at Danny.

Danny, who presses his lips together and curses, "Dammit."

Stiles lets out his most obnoxious laugh at that, because it's not everyday that someone bests Danny.

And he figures he should enjoy this while it lasts, because they're almost back at the fire station where Danny will tell everyone about what happened with Derek.

Not that Stiles has any illusions about keeping it a secret.

He's learned long ago that firefighters are worse gossips than nurses.

Or police officers.

It's a feat, really.

So he has absolutely zero doubts that as soon as they park the ambulance and step foot inside the firehouse _everyone_ will know about him seeing Derek again and Derek calling him Bunny.

Which is exactly what happens.

Jackson is the first one to meet them, sneering at Stiles before clasping Danny on the shoulder and asking, "So, anything interesting?"

The thing is, being an EMT or a firefighter can be kind of... morbid.

The same way being a doctor or a nurse or a police officer can be.

And by that Stiles means that all of them have horror stories about their jobs.

Stories that they share, because none of them can keep their mouths shut.

So having someone ask if they have anything interesting to tell after coming back from a scene is not really that uncommon.

Unethical, but not uncommon.

So when they walk back to the kitchen and the rest of the company waves or nods their hellos, Stiles knows his time is up.

He makes sure to grab a mug and fill it with coffee before sitting down besides Scott on one of the couches, just waiting for the moment Danny decides to spill the news.

He doesn't have to wait long.

"You know we got called because of a bike accident, right?" Danny tells Jackson in a loud enough voice that he knows everyone will hear.

Stiles rolls his eyes.

It's not like he can get mad at Danny either.

Not when he was the one who told everyone about the old lady who was so grateful to have Danny assist her when she was stuck in an elevator for two hours that the first thing she did when they got out was to grope his ass.

And then tell him to wheel her chair to the closest bathroom so she could thank him properly.

Yeah.

Good times.

"Stiles knew the victim," Danny says after Jackson makes a gesture for him to keep going.

"_Derek_?" Scott turns to him, worried.

Stiles gives him a tight smile.

"Is he okay?"

Stiles nods, "Just a concussion. Nothing overly serious. He'll be okay."

"And not only Stiles _knew_ the victim," Danny keeps going, tone teasing. "It was _Hot Biker Guy_," that gets an eyebrow raise from Jackson and a few catcalls from the other firefighters. "_And_ he kept calling Stiles _Bunny_."

"Oh, god," Stiles hides his face behind his hand as he hears the sounds of Jackson choking on his water and the battalion collapsing on itself from laughing too hard.

He doesn't even want to know what face Scott is making right now.

So he stays exactly where he is, one hand clutching his coffee cup and the other one over his face, as Danny tells them the rest of the story, from Derek calling him pretty to asking him if he was going to come back to the hospital.

"Are you, though?" Scott asks, poking him in the shoulder.

"Am I what?"

"Going back to see him?"

Stiles lets his hand fall at that, blinks a few times before saying, "Well, yeah."

Scott makes a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat at that, and Stiles immediately turns to him, eyes narrowed.

"What?"

"Nothing," Scott shrugs. "I just think it's nice of you to do that."

"Really."

"Yeah, dude," Scott throws an arm around his shoulders. "You know he's gonna need something pretty to look at if Nurse Turnblad is the one making the rounds."

"Oh my _god_," Stiles pushes him off of him and to the ground. "Why am I even friends with you?"

"You shared your crayons with me in kindergarten," Scott says seriously. "There's no going back."

Stiles snorts a laugh and helps Scott up, scooting over so he can sit on the couch again.

Just as Scott opens his mouth to say something else the siren blasts across the station, dispatch letting them know about signs of smoke in the Preserve.

Scott sighs and gets up, stealing Stiles' mug and draining it all in three large gulps before following Jackson to get to their uniforms.

"Try not to get mauled by wild animals," Stiles yells from where's he's sitting.

"I'm not the one who should be worried about that, _Bunny_," Scott throws over his shoulder before stepping out of the kitchen.

His _friends,_ really.

* * *

Stiles does as promised and goes back to see Derek at the hospital.

From the sympathetic glances nurses are sending his way as he walks down the hallways to where Derek's room is, he knows he must look as nervous as he feels.

He couldn't find the doctor that treated Derek when Stiles dropped him off, so he doesn't know the extent of the damage Derek's suffered from his concussion. He doesn't know if he even remembers anything that happened when he was in the ambulance with Stiles or that he admitted to liking having Stiles on the back of his back.

Among other things.

So Stiles is feeling a bit apprehensive when he finally gets to the door of Derek's room.

Only to find it open, with Derek inside struggling with his stiff muscles to get his leather jacket on and a girl with dark black hair sitting on the bed and stifling a laugh.

If Stiles didn't already know that Derek doesn't have a girlfriend, he might have been jealous.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me?" Derek huffs.

At first Stiles thinks he's talking to him, but the sharp sound of the girl's laughter and the force of the glare Derek's directing at her makes him think otherwise.

"I don't know, Der," the girl gasps, wiping at her eyes with her thumb. "Watching you failing at putting your jacket on looks pretty funny to me."

The glare deepens, Derek's mouth joining in as his lips press into a thin line.

"Why are you even here?"

"I drew the short straw," the girl shrugs, and at the way Derek's shoulders drop and his jacket falls to the floor she adds, "I'm kidding. All the others had to work. Boyd and Cora are at the bar with mom, and Peter, Erica, and Isaac are overseeing something to do with car parts and shipping that I know nothing about."

"Like that's news," Derek rolls his eyes at her.

"Don't be cute," she narrows her eyes at him. "Or I won't help you with your clothes."

"You'll do it anyway," Derek smirks at her. "Otherwise I'll have to tell mom how unhelpful you were while I was hurt."

Stiles just blinks at the two of them, still going unnoticed.

Because that's Derek _smirking_ at someone.

Like, his lips actually forming something close to a smile that's not just a twitch of muscle or the impression of one. It's _right there_ and it makes him look five times more attractive than he already is, and the little warmth Stiles gets on his chest that he's come to associate with Derek comes back in full force.

It registers on some part of Stiles' mind that the person with Derek must be his sister, with her dark hair and sharp jaw and the way she's scowling at Derek right now.

But Stiles is too busy biting down on his bottom lip, thinking about turning on his back and walking away. Walking away from the way his chest feels tight and his body feels hot all over and his skin feels like it's stretched too thin over his bones.

And then the girl is reaching for Derek's jacket on the floor, and just as she closes her fingers around the fabric her eyes snap up and pin Stiles in place.

"Who are you?"

Stiles swallows hard as he sees Derek following her gaze to the door, Derek's hands clenching into fists and his expression closing off when they make eye contact.

This was a bad idea.

It's obvious Derek doesn't want him here; maybe doesn't even remember what happened and what he said.

He's just about to open his mouth and say this was a horrible terrible mistake when he hears Derek say, "Stiles."

"Hey," Stiles smiles sheepishly at him, fingers raising in an aborted wave before he clasps his hands behind his back.

"This is Stiles?" the girl asks, head tilted to the side and a small smirk playing over her lips as.

"That'd be me," Stiles rocks back on his heels just as Derek warns, "_Laura_."

The girl, _Laura_, merely raises her eyebrows at Derek before turning her attention back to Stiles, her smirk turning into something sweeter and far far more dangerous.

Stiles briefly wonders if she knows Lydia.

"I'm Laura," she introduces herself. "Derek's sister."

"Nice to meet you," Stiles says shyly, biting down on his bottom lip.

He doesn't know if he should be scared of her or not.

Especially when Derek's made no move to even acknowledge he's here except calling his name.

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine," Laura says, sweet smile still in place. "Derek's mentioned you."

Stiles tries to play it cool, tries not to show how much those words affect him, tries to hide his surprise of knowing Derek _talked_ about him to other people.

Other people who are _related_ to him.

Not that he succeeds much when he asks, "He did?", his voice coming out a little higher than normal.

When he glances at Derek is only to find him glaring hard at the floor, lips pressed together. He looks like he's trying really hard to fight something, and as Stiles takes in the faintest of flushes spreading down the back of Derek's neck, he figures out what.

"Oh, yeah," Laura's smile widens as he notices Stiles noticing Derek. "You two rode together in the Egg Run, right? Stiles, the EMT."

"Yep," Stiles licks his lips. "I'm an EMT," and then adds. "I was actually the one who brought Derek to the hospital."

"Oh, _really_?" and Laura sounds super interested now, going as far as crossing her legs and resting her chin on her hand. "Do tell."

"Uh...," Stiles starts, taking a step inside the room only to stop abruptly when Derek finally looks at him. "I was actually wondering if you remember anything from the accident?" Stiles' question is directed to Derek. "Or at least what happened in the ambulance?"

"No," Derek says, Stiles' stomach dropping until Derek shakes his head. "I mean. No, I don't really remember anything from the accident, but after..."

He looks painfully awkward standing there, eyes locked to Stiles' as if willing him to understand the hidden meaning behind the words he didn't say.

"Oh," Stiles says, heart beating a mile a minute as he offers Derek what he hopes is a soft and warm smile. "Did you mean it?"

Stiles can't help but ask, not really. He needs something to make sure Derek's into him just as he's into Derek. He just hopes Derek also understands what he's trying to say without, you know, actually saying it.

"I-," Derek starts, clearing his throat before bobbing his head up and down. "Yes. I did. I meant it."

The beam that breaks across Stiles' face at that must be enough to blind a whole town.

Not that it matters.

Because Derek _likes him_.

"Good," Stiles says quietly, lowering his head a little. "I'm glad."

"Yeah?" Derek asks, hope filling his tone.

"Yeah," Stiles lifts his head up to continue to grin at him.

"Good," Derek says, lips tugging up.

"Oh, god," comes a groan from the bed, startling both Stiles and Derek. "You too are so disgustingly sweet and awkward together I don't know if I should hug you or smother myself with my shirt."

Stiles blinks at Laura, lips pursed together as he starts feeling the embarrassment curling on the bottom of his stomach.

He completely forgot she was there.

And judging by the pinched look on Derek's face, so did he.

Derek recovers fast enough, though, narrows his eyes at her and saying, "Smother yourself and do us all a favor."

"You love me," Laura bats her lashes at him.

Derek sighs, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The motion makes him wince.

"You stiff?" Stiles asks, not realizing what he said until Derek makes a choked-up sound and Laura buries her face in Derek's jacket, shoulders shaking with laughter. "I mean," Stiles waves a hand in front of him, eyes wide. "Your muscles. From the accident."

"Yeah," Derek croaks out, rolling his shoulders. "A little bit."

"You should ice it when you get home," Stiles offers, scrubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Or take a hot shower. Whichever you prefer."

"Thanks," Derek gruffs. "I will."

"Good."

"Yeah."

"And we're back to awkward again," Laura rolls her eyes at both of them, getting up from the bed and coming to stand behind Derek. "Arms back."

Derek does as she tells him to, letting her slip the jacket up his arms and past his shoulders. He fiddles with it for a while after she steps back, fingers rearranging the collar, pulling at the sleeves.

"You're being released, I take it?" Stiles gestures to the whole expense of Derek's body dressed in normal clothing.

And not a hospital gown.

Stiles tries not to feel too disappointed by not being able to see that, because this means that there's nothing wrong with Derek and he's safe to go home.

"Yeah," Derek says, only to be interrupted by Laura.

"They couldn't find anything wrong with him besides the obvious, so they're sending him home," she pats Derek on the shoulder when he scowls at her. "Which is where we would be driving to if Derek hadn't had a problem with dressing himself."

"Oh," Stiles says slowly. "Right. I guess I should go then," he points over his shoulder to the door. "Since I came here check on you and make sure you're okay. Which you obviously are, so... Yep."

Stiles forces himself to take a step back from Derek, biting down on his lower lip as he tries to figure out a way to maybe ask Derek out without having Laura embarrass them any further.

Not that he needs to, with the panicky look Derek gets on his face just as he blurts out, "Your number."

Stiles stops in his tracks, ignoring the way Laura chokes on a laugh, his whole being focused on Derek and what he just said. Trying to process it. Trying to _understand it_.

"Your number," Derek repeats. "You could give it to me. So I could text you."

Derek looks so painfully awkward standing there, hands clenched into fists by his side while his sister's eyes water from holding in the laugh that she wants to let out. Stiles' heart does some complicated leap in his chest as he takes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to Derek.

"I'd like that," Stiles says, his voice cracking a little.

Derek takes his phone and punches his number in, his lips curled up at the sides when he gives it back to Stiles.

"I'll do that, then," he says softly, and when Laura clears her throat behind them he adds, a little put out. "We should get going."

"Yep," Laura pipes up. "If I know mom, she must be thinking you're probably dead by now."

Derek looks skyward at that, as if asking for strength.

Stiles snorts a quiet laugh at both of them, opening the door and ushering them outside. "Go on, then. I wouldn't want be the reason your mother worries."

"It's okay," Laura smiles sweetly at him. "I'll just tell her all about the cute EMT who held us up."

Stiles opens and closes his mouth at that, eyes wide, and he's incredibly grateful when Derek lifts his arm and elbows her in the ribs.

The three of them walk together to the parking lot, Laura getting into a black Camaro while Derek stops outside the passenger's side, leaning against the door so he and Stiles can be face to face.

"Thank you," Derek says, voice low and a little gruff.

"For what?"

Derek shrugs. "For driving me to the hospital."

"Just doing my job, dude," Stiles shrugs one shoulder back. "But you're welcome."

Derek tilts his chin up at him before turning and getting into the car, Laura sounding the horn and waving at him from the window before driving off the parking lot.

Stiles makes his way to his Jeep with his heart light and a skip on his step. It's not until he's inside and safely buckled up that the reaches a hand into his pocket, grabs his cell, and unlocks the screen to see the text Derek sent to his own phone so he could have Stiles' number.

**To: Derek**

_I'm glad you came back._

He smiles all the way home.


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n**: i know nothing about medicine aside from the fact that i like people in scrubs :D

* * *

**From: Derek**

_Bumped into the mom that cornered me when we were getting out of the hospital at the grocery store._

Stiles smiles down at his phone, biting down on his bottom lip as he taps an answer.

**To: Derek**

_did she try to bad touch you again?_

**From: Derek**

_No._

**From: Derek**

_But she did ask me where my boyfriend was._

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" Stiles asks, blinking innocently at Scott.

"With the face," Scott scrunches his nose up, waving a hand to Stiles' face.

"What face?"

"Your _Derek's texting me_ face."

"I don't have a _Derek's texting me_ face," Stiles sputters, feeling the beginnings of a blush covering his cheeks.

"You kind of do," Allison says as she steps out of the chicken, wine bottle and glasses in hand.

"I do not!"

"You do," Lydia agrees, staring down at her nails. "It's disgusting."

"It kind of is," Danny gives him an apologetic smile, taking the glasses from Allison's hand and setting them up on the coffee table.

"I don't see how it's different from all of his other faces," Jackson pipes up, and Stiles feels oddly touched until he continues. "They're all disgusting to me."

Stiles is saved from having to hurl himself over the coffee table and punch Jackson when Danny whacks him in the back of the head and says, "Be nice."

Jackson just scowls down at his feet, but doesn't say anything else.

"I need new friends," Stiles sighs, dropping his head back against the back of the couch.

"No, you don't," Lydia says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I don't want to have to train someone new."

"Thanks," Stiles snorts.

"I don't want you to go away," Scott frowns at him, eyes sad and worried. "You're my best friend."

"Oh, buddy," Stiles grins at him, throwing an arm around Scott's shoulder and pulling him in a hug. "I love you, too."

"But how are things with Derek?" Allison flops down besides her boyfriend on the couch, putting her legs over his lap.

Stiles thinks about that.

It's been three weeks since they exchanged phone numbers at the hospital, and they've been texting pretty much nonstop ever since. Derek hasn't said anything about wanting to see him, though, and Stiles doesn't really want to bring it up and and maybe running the risk of ruining things between them or appearing too eager and scaring Derek off.

He wonders if it's for the best, the unspoken text-only rule they have going on, because this way he's managed to learn more about Derek than he thinks he would have if they went on a date like everyone else thinks they're supposed to.

Stiles now knows that Derek works as a mechanic at his Uncle's garage with two of his best friends - one of which is dating his younger sister, Cora -, that pretty much all of his family and friends also ride bikes, and that his mom decided to occupy her time by opening a bar and putting his little sister and his other best friend to work.

So a lot of Derek's texts are related to one of those things, which means Stiles is constantly reading about how Derek is _this close_ to bashing Isaac's head in with a wrench if he has to listen to anymore quips about his and his sister's sex life while they're working, how everyone keeps making fun of him for totaling his bike, and that if his mother asks him one more time about what kind of color stools she should have at the bar he's going to stab himself in the eye with a fork.

Okay, so maybe he doesn't sound particularly happy when he texts things like that, but Stiles knows Derek loves them.

And Stiles enjoys reading about the little things going on in Derek's life, and he's aware that the only reason why Derek feels comfortable enough with telling him about those things is because Stiles also spends a lot of type complaining about his own friends.

So he just gives Allison a small and shy smile and says, "Things are good."

"When are you going to see each other?" Danny asks, sipping his wine.

Stiles halts at that, biting down on his bottom lip. He can feel the eyes of his friends focused on him, and he knows they're taking his hesitation to answer as a point against Derek.

Even though none of them have actually_ talked_ to him.

Not that Stiles can really say anything, considering he's only spoken to Derek twice.

"We haven't talked about it yet," Stiles shrugs, and then makes an attempt to change the subject. "So are we ordering food right now or later?"

"Later," they all say in unison.

Stiles winces.

Sometimes he hates the standing dinner dates they all have when everybody manages to not be on call on the same night.

**To: Derek**

_i need new friends_

"Is there a reason why you haven't talked about it?" Lydia stares at him, eyes calculating. "Or is this just your natural ability of _not doing anything_ making itself known once again?"

"I do things," Stiles frowns at her, pursing his lips together.

"You had a crush on me for the better part of ten years and you never once asked me out," she arches an eyebrow at him.

"Like you two would have worked," Jackson snorts.

"Not the point, Jackson," Danny reminds him.

"So," Allison tilts her head at him. "Is Lydia right? Or did you talk to him about it and he was the one who didn't mention it again?"

"Dude, that's not cool. You deserve someone better than that," Scott tells him, and then surprises everyone by saying, "Or maybe he's just waiting for you to say something."

Stiles opens and closes his mouth at that, blinking at Scott, because that makes a lot of sense.

Maybe Derek hasn't said anything because he's waiting for Stiles to say something first.

Maybe he's thinking the same thing Stiles is whenever he starts writing out a text suggesting them to meet soon only to delete it as soon as he finishes the sentence.

Maybe he's afraid Stiles will say no.

Even though Derek asking for Stiles' number and Stiles giving it to him is a pretty good indicator of, you know, _interest_ from Stiles' part, maybe Derek's just nervous about making the first move.

And judging by how _awkward_ Derek was whenever they interacted, Stiles has to say that's a pretty sensible and possible explanation for it all.

His phone buzzes.

**From: Derek**

_I'll trade you. You can have all of mine. And my sisters._

Stiles swallows back a laugh at that, turning his head to the side and clasps Scott on the shoulder, determination written over his features, "You know what? You're totally right. Maybe he's just waiting for me to make a move first."

"Of course he is, man," Scott nods vigorously at him. "He'd have to be a real jerk not to want to go out with you."

"Scott's right," Allison flashes her dimples at him, pressing her toes against the side of Stiles' thigh. "You're a catch."

"You can hold up a conversation with me about Transmyocardial laser revascularization heart surgery," Lydia adds, like that's one of the many qualities someone should look for in a partner.

Maybe for her it is.

Stiles wouldn't know.

And thank fuck for that.

"You look nice in a v-neck," Danny raises his glass at him, shrugging and saying, "What? He does," when Jackson glares at him.

Everyone stares expectantly at Jackson, then, being the only one who still hasn't said something nice about why Derek should want to be with Stiles.

Not that Stiles is expecting anything from him, really.

"You're not as pathetic as you look," is what he finally says after a jab in the ribs from Lydia.

"Thank you, Jackson," Stiles says solemnly. "That's very nice of you to say."

"Don't expect me to do it again."

**To: Derek**

_i take it back_

**To: Derek**

_i'm keeping them_

"I would never," Stiles gasps, and then directs the room. "Now that you're done sticking your noses in my love life, can we please order some food?"

"We're only sticking our noses in your love life so you can stick your dick in Derek," Allison waves a hand in front of her, like it's not big deal.

Both Danny and Lydia nod in agreement, while Scott and Jackson get this pinched look on their faces like someone just told them they're going to have to pose for next year's Firefighter Calendar.

Stiles just sinks low into the couch cushions and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, dropping them to send Derek another text message.

**To: Derek**

_i sent you that in a moment of weakness_

**To: Derek**

_you can have them_

**To: Derek**

_all of them_

Stiles drops his phone in his lap, looking up only to see them all staring at him.

"I'm trading all of you in for Derek's friends," Stiles announces, making everyone break into laughter. "I hate you."

"Then why don't you help me pick dinner?" Danny offers, pointing to the takeout pamphlets on the coffee table.

"You sure you want to share your turn like that?" Stiles grabs them and leans forward on the couch so he and Danny can look over their choices for the night.

Since it's not often that their schedules sync and everyone manages to be free the same night, they all take turns choosing whatever it is they'll have for dinner. Last time it was Jackson's turn, and let's just say the night took a turn for the worse when they found out Scott is actually allergic to shrimp.

At least everyone at the table had some sort of medical training.

"I can just veto your choices if I don't like them," Danny shrugs, throwing away the adds for both Chinese and Thai food.

Stiles rolls his eyes at him, looking down at his lap when he feels his phone vibrate against his thigh.

His lips tug up when he sees it's another text from Derek.

**From: Derek**

_I don't know..._

**From: Derek**

_Maybe I'd rather have you._

He's pretty sure he lets out a whimper of some sort, if judging by the way Danny actually startles in place and lets the pamphlets fall to the ground.

"Stiles?" Scott looks at him, confused.

"Nothing," Stiles squeaks, clutching his phone tightly to his chest.

"I didn't even ask you anything," Scott frowns.

"Did you just _whimper_?" Lydia quirks an eyebrow at him, eyes glinting.

"I did not," Stiles denies, his voice still sounding a little high.

"Was that another text from _Derek_?" Allison teases, smirking at him.

"No," Stiles says, way too fast to be true.

"You're not sexting, are you?" Jackson asks, scowling at him and narrowing his eyes when Stiles just bites down on his bottom lip and blushes. "_Are you_?"

Stiles lets out a meep when his phone buzzes again, his friends' eyes going from it to Stiles and then back to his phone again before all of them make a face and start to protest.

"_Stiles_."

"Oh my _god_."

"You don't do that in front of your _friends_."

"Good for you, Stiles."

"I hate you_ so much_, Stilinski."

Stiles scrambles to get up from the couch when his phone vibrates a couple more times against his chest, almost knocking the wine bottle on top of the coffee table to the ground on his hurry to get the fuck away from everyone and to a safe place where he can text Derek back.

And maybe actually sext him.

He locks himself inside Scott's bathroom, sitting up against the counter and pursing his lips together before unlocking the screen of his phone.

**From: Derek**

_I'm sorry._

**From: Derek**

_Was that too forward?_

**From: Derek**

_I didn't mean_

**From: Derek**

_It's just that we've been talking for a while and_

**From: Derek**

_Sorry, I shouldn't assume_

Stiles reads over the texts, stomach dropping a little when he sees Derek didn't even finish some of his sentences, as if he took Stiles' silence as him being uncomfortable at Derek for suggesting what he did.

So he starts typing furiously, trying to assure Derek that he is okay with this turn of events.

One hundred percent totally and absolutely okay with it.

So okay with it that if he knew where Derek lived he'd currently be sprawled over Derek's bed, naked, with his fingers up his ass and stretching himself for Derek's cock.

Stiles is suddenly glad he's in the bathroom and away from everyone when his dick twitches.

**To: Derek**

_no nononono no it's okay omg it's okaaay_

**To: Derek**

_i was just... i was in the living room and all of my friends were there so it was a little awkward i guess but it was okay_

Stiles takes a deep breath, biting down on his bottom lip as he types.

**To: Derek**

_more than okay actually_

**To: Derek**

_i' know we've been talking for a while and i want... that_

**To: Derek**

_to see you_

He only has to wait a couple of seconds for Derek's reply, and when it comes through the text is enough to make Stiles hop off the counter and do a little victory dance around the bathroom.

**From: Derek**

_Yeah? :)_

That's a _smiley face_, people.

Derek just sent him a text with a _smiley face_.

**To: Derek**

_yeah_

**To: Derek**

_what do you say?_

Stiles holds his breath in anticipation, praying that Scott is right and Derek is just waiting for him.

**From: Derek**

_yes_

Stiles is so busy twirling around the bathroom that he almost misses when his phone vibrates in his hand once again.

**From: Derek**

_Maybe tomorrow night?_

Stiles beams down at his phone, cheeks straining from how wide his smile is.

**To: Derek**

_can't wait_

If the loud bang that comes from the bathroom is because Stiles throws his arms up in celebration and punches the window, no one needs to know.

* * *

"What are you doing today?"

"Oh, you know," Stiles says, poking at his scrambled eggs with a spatula. "Working, saving lives, gluing flower stickers to Jackson's helmet. The usual."

The Sheriff just stares at him over the rim of his orange juice filled glass, face completely devoid of emotion.

Stiles breaks.

"And I'm also seeing Derek."

"Derek," his dad raises an eyebrow. "The one from the Egg Run?"

"Yep," Stiles presses his lips together.

"And the one who was in that nasty bike accident a while ago."

Stiles can almost feel the disapproval in his dad's tone like it's a physical thing.

"That's him," Stiles clears his throat, serving his eggs on a plate and sitting down beside his dad on the kitchen table.

The Sheriff makes a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat before picking up his half-eaten toast and taking a bite, never taking his eyes off of Stiles.

"You're going to stare at me until I promise I won't ride in a bike with Derek, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I'm not going to do that."

"I just don't want to get a call from Melissa letting me know my son's in the hospital," The Sheriff sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"That's not gonna happen," Stiles promises. "But if it makes you feel better I'll ask Derek to take me for rides around the block before we try our luck on the busy streets of Beacon Hills."

"You're not as funny as you think you are," his dad shakes his head at him.

"I am _hilarious_," Stiles scoffs, stuffing his face with eggs.

He likes this, having breakfast with his dad. They don't really have that much free time to spend together since Stiles became an EMT, so Stiles values whatever little time they do manage to do something together.

Since Stiles and Danny were scheduled for the mornings shifts this past weeks, that means they get to do this: Stiles throwing something together for them to eat while his dad reads the paper, and then both of them sitting down and filling each other in about their lives as Stiles stuffs his face with breakfast food and his dad gives him judgy eyebrows because he's raised his son better than this.

"So," the Sheriff starts. "What are you two doing tonight?"

Stiles is thankful that he still has pretty much half of his food stuck in his mouth, so he's able to take his time chewing rather than having to answer his dad.

Truth is, Stiles doesn't really know what they're doing.

He only knows what he hopes they'll be doing.

And that is: _each other_.

Because after they both agreed on doing something tonight, Derek completely took over planning their date and refused to tell Stiles what he had in mind.

Even when he asked, Derek's answer was vague.

**From: Derek**

_You'll see._

The next line was an address, telling Stiles to be there at seven p.m. sharp.

That's is.

Nothing more.

Zero explanations.

If Derek didn't know Stiles' dad was the Sheriff, Stiles would be worried about him being a serial killer and luring him off to a desert place only to kill him and chop him off in tiny little pieces.

But since that's - hopefully - not the case, Stiles texted him a "looking forward to it" back and tried not to smile too wide at everyone during the rest of the dinner.

Because this means that Derek really _was_ waiting for Stiles to make a move, and Stiles made sure to spent the last few days mentally kicking himself for not having done so sooner.

He could have been having sex with Derek for three weeks now.

All that time wasted on getting off thinking about Derek's hands on him instead of actually _having_ Derek's hands on him.

Stiles stops that line of thought as soon as it starts.

He doesn't need to think about sex with Derek when _his dad_ is in the room.

So he just shrugs one shoulder, swallows his food, and says, "I don't know, really. Derek wants it to be a surprise."

He knows better than to lie to his dad by now, and he doesn't want to give him any more reasons not to trust Derek than he apparently already has.

"A surprise," his dad repeats slowly.

"Yeah," and Stiles really can't help it when that comes out a little breathless, his lips curling up in a small smile as he stares down at his plate.

"Oh, god," his dad groans, throwing his toast back on his plate and leaning back on his chair.

Stiles stares up at him, eyes wide, fork halfway to his mouth, "What?"

"You got it bad, don't you, kid?" he says softly, eyes a little sad.

Stiles presses his lips together, avoiding his father's gaze.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't."

"I don't have it bad for Derek, Dad. Geez."

"Right."

"I don't."

"I'm not arguing with you, Stiles."

And when Stiles turns his eyes up to look at his dad is to find him with his arms crossed over his chest, lips stretched into a smirk.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Stiles whines, hitting his head against the table. "I'm your only child. You're supposed to be supportive and, you know, love me. Not torture me like this."

"I'll take my fun where I can get it," the Sheriff smiles, warm and so fucking big Stiles kind of wants to hit him a little bit right now.

"You're a horrible _horrible_ father," Stiles glares at him, trying to look mad but failing miserably when his lips twitch.

"Now, now," his dad reaches over to pat him on the head. "It's okay."

"It's not okay," Stiles blanches. "I don't even _know him_, not really."

"You know that sometimes that's not the problem," his dad tells him. "God knows I didn't knew your mom before I took one look at her and decided I was going to spend the rest of my life with her."

Stiles swallows hard at that, feeling his father's fingers press against his skull at the mention of his mom. It still hurts, sometimes, talking about her. They do it more often then when Stiles was in high school, but it's still a sore spot for both of them.

He appreciates this, though. It means his dad understands. And maybe it means he probably won't give Stiles a hard time when he stops by a few days after his date with Derek and promptly tells him he won't love anyone else in his life, ever.

"I just-" Stiles sighs, squeezing his eyes shut before whispering, "I'm scared."

"Hey," his dad says, moving his chair closer to Stiles' and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with that. It's actually a perfectly normal reaction to be terrified out of your mind when you realize you're in love with someone."

Stiles turns his head to the side to narrow his eyes at his dad. "I'm not in love with him."

The Sheriff just raises both eyebrows at him.

"Not yet, anyways," Stiles grumbles.

"But the potential is there," his dad nods along, a thoughtful look on his face. "And you're scared he won't feel the same way," he adds, and at the way Stiles' eyes him sadly he continues, "Even though he's been texting you nonstop since you told me you visited him at the hospital, and he's the one who asked you for your number in the first place."

"That only means he's interested," Stiles argues, even though what his dad said makes him feel a little bit better. "Not that he-," he waves a hand around. "You know."

"The fact that he's going to go through the trouble of making your first date a surprise is a pretty good indicator he's as invested in this as you are," the Sheriff tells him, a knowing look on his face. "If not more so."

"You think?" Stiles bites down on his lower lip, eyes big and hopeful as he stares at him dad.

"I know it," his dad gives him a sharp nod, and then smirks. "And if it turns out that he's not, I can always find something to arrest him for."

Stiles chokes on a laugh, "_Dad_."

"I'm just saying," his dad squeezes his shoulder before letting go. "Now eat your breakfast."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"So, what are you and Derek doing tonight?"

Stiles looks up from the sandwich he's making only to make a face at Danny, "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Who else asked you?"

"My dad," Stiles says, and at Danny's unimpressed look he adds, "And Mrs. McCall, when she called me to let me know next week's weekly dinner is going to be at my dad's house. And Scott, when I saw him, like, two hours ago."

"That's not everyone," Danny points out, leaning against the kitchen counter and staring at Stiles expectantly. "_So_?"

"I don't know, okay?" Stiles tells him, refusing to look back at Danny. "He wants it to be a surprise."

"_Really_?" Danny asks, sounding impressed.

"Yes, really."

"Hm."

Stiles glances at him and narrows his eyes, "_Hm_ what?"

"It's just-," Danny shrugs one shoulder. "He'll have to put a lot of work in that. You know, making it a surprise."

Stiles purses his lips together. "What do you think it means?"

"It means he's willing to go through a lot of trouble to impress you," Danny raises an eyebrow at him. "And that means he gets a few points in my book."

"Yeah?" Stiles smiles at Danny. "My dad said the pretty much the same thing, you know, about the whole going through a lot of trouble to do this."

"Your dad is a wise man," Danny nods. "You know, being the Sheriff and all."

Stiles rolls his eyes, throwing a tomato slice at Danny.

Just then the room starts to fill in with Jackson's company, both he and Scott walking over to where Stiles and Danny are standing.

Scott gazes from Stiles' sandwich to his best friend's face, eyes going wide and glazing over as he pushes his bottom lip forward.

"I hate you," Stiles mutters under his breath, cutting the sandwich in half and giving one of them to Scott.

"Thanks, man," Scott beams up at him.

"You two are disgusting," Jackson spits out, opening the fridge and getting out a bottle of pickles.

"Sure," Danny drawls out, eyeing Jackson as he opens the bottle, sticks his fingers inside, grabs a pickle, and takes a bite. "They're the ones who're disgusting."

Jackson frowns at him, munching on his pickle.

"So," Stiles says slowly, giving them his expectant eyebrow wiggle. "How were things at the Preserve?"

Scott sighs tiredly, shoulders slumping forward.

"That bad, huh?" Danny winces in sympathy.

"It wasn't bad," Scott crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm just tired of us getting called in because some dumb kids decided to light a bonfire in the middle of the woods."

"They're sending us out for that when we could be helping someone who really needs it," Jackson says quietly, and it's in moments like this one that Stiles remembers Jackson didn't have an easy start in life like the rest of them.

They stay quiet after that, Stiles and Scott chewing on their sandwiches while Jackson eats his pickle and Danny looking at something on his phone.

And then Scott says, "The old empty house at the Preserve is not empty anymore."

That gets him both Stiles and Danny's attention.

Fast.

"Yeah," Scott nods, swallowing around his food before he continues. "Apparently the family decided to move back to Beacon Hills? So they renovated the house and some of them are living there again."

"Really?" Stiles asks, because this is news to him.

Kind of _big_ news, actually.

He remembers driving to the Preserve when he was a teenager, the old ruins calling out to him like nothing else. He remembers the smell of ash and rotten wood, how the house didn't even look like a house anymore, just a shell of someone's elses life and all the ghosts they must have carried with them.

He doesn't remember the fire, not really. He was too young to understand that someone's family burned to death due to faulty wiring, too young to get what that meant.

Maybe that's why he was so attracted to it while growing up. Because whoever survived something like that must have understood what it was like to feel completely helpless over losing people you love, over watching them waste away and not being able to do anything about it, not being able to save them.

Like Stiles felt when his mom got sick.

So the fact that he had absolutely _no idea_ the house was renovated and people were actually living there was a big deal.

"Didn't your dad tell you?" Scott frowns at him, licking mayo off his thumb.

"No, he didn't," Stiles huffs, shifting in place.

The reason Scott assumes Stiles' dad would have told him about it is because he had to pick Stiles up from the house way too many times to count.

Some of those times Stiles might have not been, you know, _sober_.

And maybe that's why his dad didn't said anything, so Stiles wouldn't be tempted into snooping around and having the new tenants call the police on him. And then the embarrassment that would bring everyone when they found out that the police was actually _Stiles' dad_, so yeah.

Good call.

Still, he makes a mental note to find out what the family name is and who's living there.

"How do you know people are living there, anyway?" Danny asks, eyeing Jackson eating with a look of disgust on his face.

"One of them made the call," Jackson says, and Scott adds, "He was creepy."

"Creepy?" Stiles licks his lips, sounding even more interested.

"Older dude," Scott explains, and then shudders. "He kept smiling at us."

"He's clothes were worth more than Scott's bike," Jackson fills in.

"That's not really an accomplishment," Danny mumbles, throwing his hands up when Scott frowns at him and says, "Hey!"

"Maybe he was smiling because you two just look so pretty in your gear," Stiles changes the subject, bating his lashes at both Jackson and Scott, earning a chuckle from Danny.

"Fuck off, Stilinski," Jackson snaps at the same time Scott smiles at him and says, "Thanks, dude."

"You're welcome," Stiles kisses him on the cheek, and just as he's about to open his mouth to say something else the siren rings and a dispatch call starts resonating through the firehouse.

_Ambulance 17. Head Injury-_

"That's us," Danny sighs, clasping Jackson on the shoulder before tilting his head at Stiles. "Let's go."

"Good luck," Scott yells after him as Stiles and Danny make their way to the ambulance.

They hop into the ambulance and quickly make their way to the location, which happens to be a hardware store downtown. There's little to no commotion in front of the store, just a clerk in a little blue vest with the name 'Jake' sewed on it waiting for them by the door.

"Oh, thank god," he says as soon as Stiles and Danny climb off the ambulance. "Can you just please come in and make sure he's okay so she can leave?"

Both Stiles and Danny glance at each other at that, following the guy as he walks them further and further into the store.

The closer they get to the back of the store, the more Stiles can hear the voice of a woman snapping at the store owner, saying something about _code violations_ and _dangerous environments_ and _suing you until the only thing you have left is that ugly angle grinder that almost killed Boyd_.

She sounds vaguely familiar.

And it isn't until he hears another woman say, "Laura, there's no need for that," in a much calmer voice that Stiles realizes why.

It also helps that they finally get to where they're all standing, and Stiles has to press his lips together to muffle his urge to laugh.

The owner, that now Stiles recognizes as being Mr. Harold, is backed up against a shelf while Laura looms over him, one hand on her hip and the other pointing dangerously close to the old man's face. There's also an older woman who looks a lot like Laura with a hand on her shoulder, as if trying to calm her down or get her to step back, and all of them are being observed by an incredibly unimpressed guy sitting on a chair and holding a blood-covered cloth to his forehead.

Laura opens her mouth to keep cursing at the owner, only stopping to do a double take as she sees him. "_Stiles_?"

"It's lovely seeing you again, Laura," Stiles flashes her a smile.

"You know her?" Danny asks, incredulously, only to wave a hand in front of him and say, "Nevermind. Of course you know her."

Laura makes a face at both of them, looking displeased at their unprofessionalism.

"So, Boyd?" Stiles ignores her in favor of turning to the guy_ holding a bloody cloth to his head_, seeing him nod before point at the guy's head. "Can you move that for me?"

The guy just blinks at Stiles before removing the cloth, blood slowly oozing down the side of his face from the cut he has just above his temple. Before Stiles can even open his mouth Danny is already passing him the necessary things to clean the wound, so Stiles gets to work while Laura and the other woman hoover behind them.

"Can anyone tell us how this happened?" Danny asks no one in particular.

Laura's expression twists into a scowl, but before she can open her mouth the older woman says, "We were looking at the displays. An angle grinder must have been a little loose and it fell on his head," Stiles thinks Danny must have blinked at her for that short explanation, so she adds, "Really, there's not much else to it. Looking at displays, picking up a hammer, loose angle grinder falling off the sky."

She has a _what can you do kind_ of tone to her voice that makes Stiles wonder what kind of injuries she must have seen in her life to not be even a little phased by someone almost getting their head split open by wayward tools.

Stiles' lips twitch.

That's one badass lady.

"Do you have your shots in order?"

"Yes," Boyd says, wincing a little as Stiles pokes at his cut. "I feel dizzy."

Boyd's speech is a little slurred but he doesn't seem to be having any bad reactions to lights, but the fact that he's experiencing dizziness is not good.

"Well," Stiles says slowly. "The cut doesn't look that deep, but we still have to take you to the hospital so you can get checked out properly and get a few stitches, specially if you're dizzy."

"What about all the blood?" Mr. Harold pipes up, snapping his mouth shut when Laura glares at him.

"Head wounds bleed a lot," Danny explains, earning nods from everyone.

Stiles tries not to think about how everyone, aside from him and Danny who are, you know, _medical professionals_, know that.

"Any of you riding in the ambulance with us?"

"I'll go," the older lady raises a hand, reaching inside her pocket and throwing Laura her car keys. "You can meet us at the hospital after you call Erica."

"I will," Laura says, walking out with them - much to the owner's happiness - as Stiles and Danny take Boyd to the ambulance.

Or rather, push the wheeled chair he's sitting on all the way to the ambulance until they can get the stretcher out and help him move.

"You can climb up, ma'am," Stiles offers a hand to the woman as she hoists herself up and sits beside Boyd.

"Thank you," she says, giving him a smile before turning to Laura. "Don't forget: call Erica."

"I won't," Laura rolls her eyes as Stiles closes one side of the ambulance door and gets in. "Bye, Stiles," Laura waves at him, and just as he's about to close the other door and give Danny the okay to drive, she adds, "Bye, mom!"

Stiles is pretty sure the only reason he doesn't fall face down on the ambulance floor from pure _shock_ is because he's already practically sitting down when he hears her, so he just ends up flopping heavily down on his ass, Laura cackling maniacally in the background as Danny takes off.

He's counting his luck when no one says anything after the first five minutes of driving, but judging by the way Boyd and Laura's - _Derek_'s - mom keep looking at him, he knows it's not going to last long.

What surprises him is that Boyd is the one to break the silence.

"You're Derek's."

Stiles blinks at him, waiting for the rest of the sentence.

When that doesn't come, he just gapes at Boyd for a little bit, cheeks reddening as he sees Derek's mom tilt her head to the side and give him a considering look.

"I don't-," Stiles shakes his head, at a loss for what to say.

"What he meant is," Derek's mom says. "You're the one who rode with Derek on the Egg Run, right? And the EMT who drove him to the hospital when the accident happened?"

"Yep," Stiles nods, mouth dry. "That's me," he offers her a shaky smile. "Stiles."

"Well, Stiles," her lips twitch up. "I'm Talia, Derek's mother."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Stiles says slowly, trying to ignore the "Oh my god" Danny lets out all the way over the driver's seat.

"There's no need to call me that," she waves a hand in front of her. "Especially when you're the one who took care of my son when he was hurt."

"There's no need to thank me," Stiles shakes his head. "I was just doing my job."

"Then I guess I have to say you're very good at what you do," she smiles sweetly at him, ignoring the way Stiles' blush deepens as she continues. "Derek's mentioned you. And so did Laura."

"Whatever Laura said about me was a lie," Stiles blurts out before he can stop himself.

Mrs. Hale just laughs at him, her entire body shaking, and even Boyd manages to crack a smile.

"I'll make no apologies for my daughter," Mrs. Hale says, still laughing a little. "We all know she can be quite..."

"Something?" Stiles offers, snickering despite himself.

"Yes, I suppose you can call her that," Mrs. Hale agrees, looking thoughtful. "But she had nice things to say about you," and at Stiles alarmed expression she explains, "Like how you came to check up on Derek at the hospital. And told him to ice his shoulders to help with the stiffness."

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times, not really knowing what to say.

"She also said you were cute," Boyd pipes up, and Stiles doesn't fight the urge to bury his face in his hands this time.

"She was right," Mrs. Hale teases, enjoying Stiles' embarrassment. "I always knew my children had good taste."

Stiles' head snaps up at that. "Children?"

"Derek didn't disagree," Boyd explains. "His actual words were 'he's not just _cute_, he's...'"

"_He's_...?" Stiles leans on the edge of his seat.

"He kind of stopped at that," Boyd shrugs. "Although, he did make a lot of hand gestures."

Danny lets out another "Oh my god" at that, but this one is accompanied by the faint sounds of laughter.

"My son is not really the best with words," Mrs. Hale clicks her tongue. "He's more of a man of action."

Stiles doesn't particularly like the way her eyes twinkle dangerously at that, and neither does he appreciate the smirk on Boyd's face and the third choked-up "Oh my god" he hears from Danny.

"Well," Stiles starts, not really knowing how to finish his thought.

He's being doing that a lot in this conversation.

And it's not like he has that many other thoughts other than _oh my god_ and _why is this happening_ and _oh my god_.

And not that he needs to, really, when Danny parks the ambulance in front of the hospital and says, "We're here."

Stiles opens the door as he waits for Danny to round the car and help him with Boyd. There's a team there already waiting for them, and when the doctor places a hand on Boyd's arm to get him to remove the cloth so he can see the wound Stiles focuses on telling him what happened and not dying of embarrassment.

Mrs. Hale doesn't immediately follow after Boyd, instead coming up to both Danny and Stiles, patting them on the cheek and thanking them for their services.

So Stiles is practically slumping with relief when she lingers in front of him and says, "I'll make sure to mention to your dad what a wonderful son he raised when we have lunch together tomorrow," before finally walking away.

He doesn't know what he should freak out about first: the fact that he just met Derek's mom by accident, or that she knows his dad, or that they're going to have _lunch_ together. In the end he just does all three, grabbing his cell from his pocket.

**To: Derek**

_derek_

**To: Derek**

_DEREK_

**To: Derek**

_i just met your mom?_

**To: Dad**

_couldn't you have mentioned you're going to have lunch with DEREK'S MOTHER tomorrow?_

**To: Dad**

_or that you even know her in the first place?_

**To: Dad**

_i thought you loved me!_

And as he puts his phone away it's only to find Danny staring at him, hands deep in his pockets as he rocks on his heels and does absolutely nothing to keep a grin off his face.

Even his dimples are showing.

"I never thought that getting paired up with you would bring me such," Danny struggles with his words, grin deepening. "_Happiness in life_."

Stiles closes his eyes and bites down hard on his bottom lip.

He _refuses_ to talk about it.

He _refuses_ to acknowledge that this happened.

He even _refuses_ to _think_ about any of this until he's in the comfort of his own home and can have a panic attack without anyone being there to witness it.

"You know," Danny sighs, resting a hand against his shoulder when he sees lost look on Stiles' face. "Why don't you go lie down on the stretcher while I drive us around for a little bit instead of going straight back to the firehouse?"

Stiles nods numbly at Danny, climbing in the back while Danny closes the doors behind him, getting one of the emergency blankets and wrapping himself in it before lying down. He knows he must look as pathetic as he feels when Danny doesn't comment on it, settling for starting the ambulance.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, and Stiles is almost afraid to see who's texting.

**From: Dad**

_The only person I'm having lunch tomorrow is Talia Hale. She's close to opening a bar in town and invited me to lunch so we could talk about it. I have no idea if she's Derek's mother or not because you never mentioned his last name. And I do love you even though you can be a pain in my ass sometimes. Now go back to work. - Dad_

Stiles purses his lips as he reads his dad's text, taking a moment to smile at the way he signed his, well, not really his _name_, at the end. He sends back a quick _I love you too_, followed by a _I'll call you later_.

He wonders if Derek will freak out when finds out that Stiles met his mother. If he'll feel as embarrassed as Stiles would have if the situations were reversed, because Stiles knows no one should be subjected to his dad without a little warning and maybe having some drinks first.

He gets his answers a couple of minutes later, his phone vibrating incessantly in his palm.

**From: Derek**

_WHAT?_

**From: Derek**

_YOU DID WHAT?_

**From: Derek**

_ARE YOU OKAY?_

Stiles starts typing out an answer and mocking Derek for use of capslock, getting interrupted when his phone starts ringing. He almost lets it drop when he sees Derek's name flashing on the screen, and it still takes him a couple of seconds to get his fingers to stop shaking so he can answer the call.

"Stop freaking out."

Because Derek actually picking up the phone and _calling_ him must mean he's not in his right mind.

And that's not what Stiles needs right now.

Stiles can hear Derek sputter on the other side of the phone before he grits his teeth together and says, "_You_ stop freaking out."

"Excuse me," Stiles snaps. "I just met your mother at a hardware store while I was treating Boyd, who I'm assuming is one of your best friends, for a _head injury_ because a _grinder_ fell on his head. _And_, like that's not horrible enough, _Laura_ was there. _So don't tell me to stop freaking out_! I have a right to be freaked out right now."

Stiles is breathing hard by the time he's done, free hand twisted against the emergency blanket as he glares at the supply shelf of the ambulance.

"A grinder fell on his head?"

"That's what you're seriously focusing on?" Stiles hisses, body tense as he hears Derek sigh on the other side.

"I'm sorry," Derek says quietly.

Stiles blinks when he doesn't say anything else, the sound of Derek's breathing the only hint that he didn't hang up the phone.

"Well," Stiles says slowly, feeling slightly off balance about being on the phone with _Derek_. "Aren't you going to ask me how he is?"

"I thought I wasn't supposed to be focusing on that."

"Don't be cute with me," Stiles warns him. "I'm not exactly in my right mind right now."

"When are you ever?" and Stiles can almost see Derek rolling his eyes.

"You don't even _know _me."

And at the silence that follows, Stiles wishes he could take his words back.

He didn't mean then, not really, but it's not like they aren't true.

"I'm sorry," it's Stiles who says it this time. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's not like you're lying," Derek answered, sounding resigned.

"I know, but-" Stiles swallows hard, fingers playing with the hem of his blanket as he tries again. "I know, but tonight's supposed to fix that. And we've been texting each other for a while now, so it's not like we don't know anything about each other."

"Stiles," Derek sighs, but Stiles keeps going.

"And you called me, which, I know you only did because you were freaking out, but that's still progress, right?" Stiles cringes at how uncertain he sounds, so he clears his throat, takes a deep breath, and says, "And I want to get to know you. And I want you to get to know me. And I want you to be able to make a joke like that and mean it. So I'm sorry I said it. And I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"You were freaking out," Derek says slowly. "Because you met my mother. That's understandable."

"Still doesn't mean I get to be a dick to you," Stiles mutters, lips curling up when he hears the faint sound of what could be a chuckle.

Coming from Derek, he knows that's pretty huge.

"How is Boyd, though?" Derek asks, worried.

"We got him to the hospital," Stiles tells him, because really, it's not like he knows more about how Boyd is then what he already told Derek. "If you haven't heard anything from anyone yet, then it means he's okay. And your mom drove in the ambulance with us."

"And Laura?"

"She was supposed to call someone before going, too," Stiles frowns. "A girl, I think?"

"Erica," Derek supplies. "She's Boyd's girlfriend. And you're right. If I can't hear any screaming or crying then it's because there's nothing to worry about."

"Are you going to go the hospital anyway?"

"Yeah, but I need to finish this conversation first."

"Okay."

"You met my mother," Derek says, and Stiles can almost taste the dread in Derek's voice on his tongue.

"Yep."

Stiles doesn't offer anything else, making Derek huff and say, "Stiles. You- I- I need more than that."

Stiles takes a deep breath before giving him more.

"She was nice?" Stiles winces. He didn't mean it to come out as a question. "I mean, I did meet her while your friend was bleeding from the head and your sister was trying to rip someone a new asshole, but she seemed like a pretty nice lady. And she was really calm while Boyd just sat there with blood oozing from his head, which kind of makes me wonder about your family and the kind of stuff you guys get into," Stiles muses out loud. "But she seemed okay, aside from, you know, the entire situation being super embarrassing because as it turns out she knows my dad. And she obviously knew who I was because, apparently, Laura mentioned me? And so did you?" Stiles hears Derek curse under his breath, and he can't really help the teasing tone his voice takes next. "My sources tell me Laura thinks I'm cute. And that you agree."

"I-," Derek tries to interrupt, but Stiles doesn't give him a chance.

"Which works fine for me, to be honest," he says, voice low. "More than fine, actually."

He hears Derek clear his throat and the sound of fabric shuffling. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Stiles breathes out. "Definitely."

Derek clears his throat again, swallowing hard before he says, "I- Me- I can't wait to see you tonight."

The smile that splits Stiles' face right then goes up to his ears, and only half of it is because how endearing Derek sounds when he chokes up.

"Me too," he whispers. "But can't you at least tell me what we're doing?"

"No," Derek says. "That's not how surprises work."

"That could be how _our_ surprises work," Stiles pipes up, smile widening. "Our _thing_. We could have a _thing_, Derek."

"That thing being surprises _not_ being surprises," Derek says flatly.

"You're getting it," Stiles congratulates him. "Now tell me about it."

"No."

Stiles gapes at the phone.

"I'll see you tonight, okay?" Derek tells him. "I have to get to the hospital and make sure everyone's okay."

Well, Stiles can't really argue with that.

"Yeah, sure," Stiles sighs, put out. "And if I hate your surprise I'll make sure to tell you as much and not shut up about it."

Derek snorts. "Can't wait."

"Me neither," Stiles says quietly.

"See you later."

"Later."

Stiles hangs up and takes a deep breath, throwing the blanket off of him before getting up and climbing over the passenger's side seat.

"Take it you're feeling better," Danny eyes him as he buckles his seatbelt.

"Don't even try to pretend you weren't listening in to the conversation."

"Okay," Danny smiles at him. "So, you're feeling better."

Stiles purses his lips together and gives him an unperceptive nod.

"Good," Danny says. "I'm not your personal driver."

Stiles leans over and smacks a kiss on Danny's cheek. "Thanks."

Danny makes a face at him but doesn't say anything, just keeps takes a turn and starts driving them back to the firehouse.

Jackson and Scott are sitting at the kitchen playing cards, the rest of the company occupying the kitchen and living room area, and neither of them looks up from their hands when both Danny and Stiles take the chairs beside them.

Stiles is waiting for Danny to tell them about what happened, but for once he keeps his mouth just and just offers Stiles a small smile when he frowns at him in confusion.

"I'm going to make you a sandwich," Stiles announces as he gets up, clasping a hand on Danny's shoulder when he walks by him to get to the fridge.

"I want mine with no mayo," Jackson calls out, narrowing his eyes at Scott as they continue to play.

"Peanut butter," Scott adds as he smiles smugly back at him.

"No one asked you," Stiles throws over his shoulder at both of them, oblivious to the way Danny leans back against his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

There's some complaining and grumbling from both Scott and Jackson at that, and even though Stiles only planned on making something for Danny as a thank you, he still grabs the condiments to make the others some snacks.

He actually goes as far as grabbing them drinks, too, setting everything down on the table after he's done.

"Thanks, man," Scott tells him, punching him lightly in the shoulder.

"No problem," Stiles waves a hand in front of him, opening the watter bottle he grabbed for himself.

Danny gives him a thankful nod while Jackson just looks suspiciously down at his sandwich before taking a bite, and judging by how slowly he's chewing Stiles thinks he must be expecting to find something other than food there.

To be fair, it wouldn't be the first time Stiles made him something to eat with something, well, _extra_.

They spend the next three hours without getting any calls.

And, again, Stiles shouldn't feel bad about having nothing to do other than hang around the firehouse playing cards and emptying the fridge, but there's still part of him that hopes for something exciting to happen.

He should know better than wish for things like that, because when they do happen is in the worst possible way imaginable and not at all like he expected them to go.

Because when he hopes for someone to get out of the house and accidentally leave the iron on, what he gets is a text from Derek that makes his stomach drop to his feet.

**From: Derek**

_Still at the hospital. Boyd's not doing so good._

**From: Derek**

_I might have to cancel tonight._

Stiles blinks down at him phone, heart beating faster as he types out an answer.

**To: Derek**

_! what happened?_

"Stiles?" Scott asks, turning on his seat to he can stare directly into the side of Stiles face.

Danny leans forward on his chair, elbows braced on the table as his eyes rake over Stiles' face. "Derek?"

Stiles shakes his head. "He's okay, but he said he's still at the hospital with Boyd. Something's wrong."

"His head injury might have been worse than we thought."

Stiles snorts at that.

_No fucking shit._

"Hey," Danny reaches a hand and grips his wrist, squeezing. "You know how tricky these type of injuries are. He might not have shown signs of anything until _days_ of it happening."

Stiles presses his lips together and shakes his head.

"There's nothing you could have done, man," Scott rests his hand against the back of Stiles' neck.

He appreciates what they're trying to do. It means they know how he functions and they know he's halfway down the road of self-blame and guilt, thinking that if he'd just done something different or maybe payed more attention he would have known something was wrong and could have done something about it.

Never mind that he's just an EMT and can't really do anything about serious head injuries, but still.

"I'm worried for Derek," Stiles says, biting down on his lower lip and ignoring the looks his friends give each other.

"I'm sure he's fine, dude," Scott reassures him, or at least tries to.

It doesn't really work.

"Would _you_ be okay if a grinder fell on my head and I went the hospital and they found out there was something _wrong_ with me?"

"We already know there's something wrong with you," Jackson says casually, shuffling the deck of cards they left on the table.

Stiles is so stunned by Jackson's indifference to someone Stiles cares about being possibly not okay that it takes him a few seconds to process what he heard.

And then he's throwing his head back and bursting into laughter.

Because this is _so much_ like Jackson, always making snide comments about Stiles or mocking him or really just being a huge fucking _pain_ in Stiles' ass that it kind of makes him feel a little more grounded.

If Jackson's being a dick then it means things aren't as bad as he thinks.

And then his phone buzzes again, cutting his laughter short.

**From: Derek**

_Seizure._

When nothing comes after that Stiles just sends out _?_ and waits.

Scott and Danny are still looking at him with worried expressions on their faces, and Stiles takes a deep breath and tries not to look too much like his heart is about to leap from his chest and tries to offer them a smile.

Scott just frowns deeper at him, while Danny sighs and gets up, rummaging through the kitchen trying to get the Reese's they hid from Chief Finstock in one of the cupboards.

"Why are you so worried?" Scott asks after staring pointedly at Jackson until he trails after Danny.

"Because Boyd might have _brain damage_," Stiles says the words slowly, not understanding why Scott is even asking him this.

"Yeah, but you don't even know him."

Stiles stares blankly at him.

Because even though he wants to punch his best friend in the face right now, he also has a point.

Stiles doesn't know Boyd.

And yeah, Stiles still would feel about someone possibly having a serious brain injury, but he wouldn't be this worked up about it.

But, the only thing he knows about Boyd is that he's important to Derek.

And Derek is important to him.

And that's enough for him to want to get on his Jeep and drive to the hospital and make sure everything's okay.

And-

Oh.

Oh.

Derek's _important to him_.

He's so important to him that the mere thought that he might be feeling hurt or worried or sad makes Stiles want to break something.

Mostly whatever it is that's making Derek feel those things.

"You're having an epiphany right now, aren't you?' Scott sighs heavily.

"Yep."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Stiles takes a couple of deep breaths, not really knowing if he does.

In the end what he comes out with is, "How did you know Allison was the one for you?"

Scott tilts his head to the side and gives him a considering look, blinking a couple of times before shrugging, a small smile playing on his lips as he says, "I just knew."

"You just knew," Stiles repeats, because that's not helpful _at all_.

"Yeah," Scott breathes out. "It was like I took one look at her and saw all that we could be. Like, how great we could be together if we got the chance. She must have spoken three words to me but they were enough for me to want to have other conversations with her. About everything, anything. They were enough for me to like her and want to get to know her and not let her walk out of my life."

Stiles' sharp intake of breath makes Scott glance up at him, his eyes widening in understanding before his entire face softens.

"Derek?"

"Yes, Derek," Stiles says quietly, voice cracking at Derek's name.

"At first," Scott starts, lowering his voice before he continues. "At first I didn't know what it was. I thought I couldn't love someone after fifteen minutes of knowing them, not when my mom had my dad for seven years and he still chose to walk away from us."

"Buddy," Stiles starts softly, stopping when Scott shakes his head.

"It took me a long time to admit to myself who Allison was to me," Scott continues. "That she was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Because as much as I wanted to be that to her and her to me, I was scared out of my fucking mind that she wouldn't think or feel the same way."

"But she does."

"Yeah," Scott beams, eyes glinting.

"I'm glad you have that," Stiles tells him honestly, because if there's one person Stiles knows who deserves to find the love of his life that person is Scott.

"But I didn't know if she did until I talked to her," Scott raises an eyebrow at Stiles. "It was my mom who told me you should always tell a girl how you feel, because they like to hear it. And I know neither you or Derek are girls, but I think it applies for you, too."

Stiles lets out a snort at that, grinning at Scott before pulling him into a hug.

"Thanks, buddy."

"Don't thank me," Scott says, pointing a finger at him when they let go. "Talk to Derek."

"Don't you think it's too soon, though?" Stiles worries at him bottom lip. "I mean, we haven't even gone out on a date. I don't even know if we still are, with Boyd at the hospital."

"Maybe you should stop by, then," Scott suggest. "Be there for him."

"His whole family must be there," Stiles shakes his head. "I don't think I'd be welcomed."

"Then call him," Scott says, waving a hand in front of him. "Text him. Send a message through my mom, whatever. Just let him know he can count on you if he needs to."

"You're a good friend, Scott," Stiles tells him seriously, and then because he's Stiles, "I'm glad I shared my crayons with you."

"Me too, man," Scott laughs. "Me too."

"Are you two done getting your feelings all over each other?" Jackson calls out from the kitchen.

"No!" both Stiles and Scott yell in unison, snickering when Jackson walks back to the table with a scowl on his face.

Danny follows soon after and throws at Reese's at Stiles head.

"I love you," Stiles blows him a kiss.

Danny just rolls his eyes at him, sitting back down on the table.

The carefree mood they have going on breaks when Stiles' phone vibrates on the table, making them all turn to it with both expectant and dreadful look on their faces.

Stiles grabs it with one hand, unlocking the screen and reading over Derek's message.

**From: Derek**

_He has internal bleeding and it keeps putting pressure on his brain, so they have to drain it and_

**From: Derek**

_He's going into surgery now_

Stiles relays Derek's text to the others, Scott's eyes going comically wide when Danny starts explaining to him how they're going to have to drill a hole into Boyd's skull to drain out the blood so the pressure against his brain stops.

**To: Derek**

_okay and i know it doesn't count for much but he's going to be fine derek. he got help in time and everything is going to turn out okay really_

**To: Derek**

_i'll let you go now but if you need anything just call me. i'll answer or come to you or whatever just if you need me i'm here_

"Can our shift be over already?" Stiles groans as he places his phone back on the table and lets out a slow breath through his lips, running a hand through his hair.

"Just a couple more hours and we're good," Danny says.

"Ugh," Stiles grunts, resting his elbows on the table and dropping his head in his hands.

He barely moves when his phone vibrates again, letting Danny slide it over with a finger until he can see the screen.

**From: Derek**

_Thank you._

**From: Derek**

_And I'm sorry about tonight, I really wanted to see you._

**From: Derek**

_We'll talk later._

Stiles smiles sadly down at his phone, swallowing around the lump in his throat as blackens the screen and puts it back in his pocket.

If Danny, Jackson, and Scott notice how Stiles doesn't really object when Jackson calls him a dick for throwing a candy wrapper at his head, none of them say anything.

And if Stiles gets home from work that night and throws himself face down on his bed and screams into his pillow, no one needs to know.

And if later when his phone buzzes the warm feeling in his chest chest comes back full force and he breathes out a sigh of relief as he reads Derek's text and smiles softly down at his phone, well, he's sort of in love.

He's allowed.

**From: Derek**

_Boyd's out of surgery. The doctors say everything went fine, but we still have to wait until he wakes up to see if there's any damage. Thanks for tonight. For your offer. It meant more than you know._

**From: Derek**

_And I promise I'll make it up to you._

**From: Derek**

_Night, Bunny._

* * *

"How was your lunch with Mrs. Hale?" Stiles asks as flops down on the couch next to his dad, offering him a beer.

The Sheriff side-eyes him before taking a sip, taking his sweet time with answering.

Sometimes Stiles thinks his dad just likes to see him squirm.

"If you must know," his dad says slowly, shifting on the couch until he finds a more comfortable position. "She had to cancel."

"I thought Boyd was okay," Stiles frowns at his dad, reaching a hand into his pocket and fishing out his phone.

Derek had sent him a number of texts since Stiles first woke up and asked him for updates about Boyd and if he needed anything. Most of them were assuring him that Boyd was okay-

**From: Derek**

_Laura started calling him Vernon and asking him to wake up and next thing we know he's opening his eyes and telling her to shut the fuck up._

**From: Derek**

_I think my mom started crying._

**From: Derek**

_You know, after she stopped laughing at Laura._

-and that he didn't need anything except for Boyd to get better.

**From: Derek**

_I don't need anything._

**From: Derek**

_Uncle Peter doesn't really like hospitals, so he offered to gets us whatever we might need._

**From: Derek**

_Laura asked for tampons._

**From: Derek**

_Isaac asked for condoms._

**From: Derek**

_I don't want to be related to any of them anymore._

And maybe get some sleep.

**From: Derek**

_I wish I could go back to my apartment and not have the risk of waking up with a dick drawn on my face if I end up falling asleep._

**From: Derek**

_I'm so fucking tired._

There was a text or maybe two about them trying to meet up again, Derek now even more determined than he was before about making sure their first date was nothing short of amazing. He even went as far as ignoring Stiles' texts when he said that he'd be okay with going out for burgers and maybe watching a movie later.

**To: Derek**

_are you seriously ignoring me because i said i'm a cheap date?_

**To: Derek**

_you should be happy about not having to spend money to impress me_

**To: Derek**

_derek_

**To: Derek**

_derek?_

**To: Derek**

_omg okay fine you can take me whatever you want i don't care_

**To: Derek**

_i just want to see you_

And since as far as Stiles knows everything is okay, he thinks there's really no reason for Derek's mom to cancel on the lunch date unless something happened to Boyd.

"Boyd?"

"Yeah," Stiles says, scrolling down his phone. "He's Derek's friend and he got hit on the head by a grinder and there were some complications and he had to have surgery so they could drain the blood off his head."

The Sheriff plucks Stiles' phone from his hand just as Stiles is about to call Derek.

"Wha- _Dad_!" Stiles sputters, trying to get his phone back only to have his dad sit on top of it.

"Explain," the Sheriff demands, crossing his arms over his chest.

Stiles runs a hand through his hair and tries to calm down, telling his dad the entire story.

"So I need to know if everything's okay," Stiles tells him, extending his hand and waiting for his dad to give him back his cell.

"I'm sure if it wasn't you would have heard about it by now," his dad says. "And she did infact cancel because someone in her family was in an accident."

"Boyd."

"Yes, Boyd," his dad nods. "I have to say, Stiles, I'm kind of relieved to know it wasn't another bike accident."

Stiles rolls his eyes at his dad.

"I don't know why you have such a problem with them."

"They're a menace."

"I'm a menace and you love me," Stiles smiles brightly at him.

It's the Sheriff's turn to roll his eyes this time, getting a hand on the back of Stiles' neck and pulling him into a hug.

"You're my son," he says. "It's not like I have much choice."

"I feeling so loved right now," Stiles deadpans, smiling against his dad's shoulder when he feels them shaking with silent laughter.

"Speaking of which," his dad says as he lets him go. "How are things with you and Derek? I know you didn't see each other last night."

Stiles sighs, lips pursing together.

He's not pouting.

Really.

He's not.

The Sheriff just raises both of his eyebrows at him, waiting patiently for him to stop feeling sorry for himself and respond.

And Stiles knows that he and Derek didn't see each other because one of his friends was in the _hospital_, but he still feels sad about it.

He was really looking forward to their date, to see what surprise Derek had in store for them.

Especially if it involved ending the night with both of them naked and fucked out of their minds.

Stiles' own hand and the memory of Derek's warm body pressed against his chest is just not good enough.

"Things are good," is all Stiles answers.

"Good?"

"Well, yeah," Stiles shrugs, because they are. "But it's not like we had that much time to talk since, you know, Boyd."

"He hasn't said anything about seeing you again?" the Sheriff frowns, lips pressed in a hard line.

"He did," Stiles reassures his dad. "We just haven't had the time to talk about any specifics yet. Especially since he said he wants to make it up to me."

The Sheriff makes a face at that, a mix between horror and disgust, and Stiles can't really help the laugh he lets out.

"I don't think I want to have this conversation anymore," his dad says, grabbing the remote from the arm of the couch and turning the tv on.

"But dad," Stiles starts, grinning wickedly. "I don't know if by make it up to me Derek means taking me out to dinner or taking my out to a ride on his-"

The Sheriff turns the volume all the way up, refusing to stare at Stiles.

"-_bike_!" Stiles finishes, screaming over the sound of the tv before collapsing on himself and laughing until tears form in his eyes.

His dad takes away his beer for that.

And eats all the chips Stiles brought with him.

Stiles doesn't regret it.

He's been waiting for a moment like this since he caught his dad and Mrs. McCall making out on the couch.

So he just smiles widely at the Sheriff before leaning back more comfortably against the couch and saying, "Love you, Dad."

He sees his dad shaking his head from the corner of his eye, the small smile playing on his lips as he says, "Love you, too, son."

* * *

Stiles gets out of the shower to see his phone light up on his bed, announcing he has a new text message.

He drops the towel wrapped around his waist and picks the phone up with a hand, not really looking at the screen.

He goes for his underwear drawer first, grabbing a pair of boxers with his free hand, starting to slide them on as he unlocks his phone and starts reading the text.

Next thing he knows he's sprawled on the floor, one side of the boxers halfway up one of his thighs and the other stuck on his foot, with a dazed sort of look on his face and the beginning of smile forming in his lips.

**From: Derek**

_Next Friday night._

**From: Derek**

_You and me._

**From: Derek**

_I won't take no for an answer._

Stiles licks his lips as he types out an answer, closing his eyes as soon as he sends it and hoping Derek will be okay with this.

**To: Derek**

_as long as you don't mind if i jump you the second i see you_

**From: Derek**

_I'm counting on it._

**From: Derek**

_I'm tired of waiting, Stiles._

"Oh god," Stiles murmurs as he reads and rereads Derek's messages, his cock taking an interest in what's happening.

And who knew Stiles would start getting turned on by a text message telling him someone wants to kiss him.

It's like he's sixteen again and the mere thought of someone's lips against his own, their tongue in his mouth, rough stubble scratching against his chin and down his neck, teeth closing over the skin of his neck and-

**From: Derek**

_Stiles?_

"Fuck," Stiles curses under his breath as he starts answering, his dick now definitely on board with where the night is going.

**To: Derek**

_god derek me too_

**To: Derek**

_yes yes friday we'll see each other friday_

**To: Derek**

_no more waiting_

**From: Derek**

_Good._

**From: Derek**

_Night, Bunny._

Stiles lets out a breathless laugh as he reads that, smiling down at his phone.

**To: Derek**

_night derek 3_

And if he throws his phone on the floor and gets a hand around his dick and jerks off right there, no one needs to know.


	3. Chapter 3

**a/n**: i just finished reading all of the reviews for the story (you are all so sweet oh my gosh *hugs you*) and i realized i haven't told you guys how things are going. so here it is:

**the rating will change**. yep, that's right! it'll be going up pretty soon, and i'll make sure to make a author's note telling you all about it.

**chapters, all the chapters**. multi-chaptered fic, but you guys can already guess that. i have no idea how many of them will be (right now i'm writing chapter 5), but as soon as i have an estimate, i'll tell you. the only thing i can say is that all of them will be over 10k words long ~

someone asked me for chapters of their **first date & first time & meet the families**? yes to all of that. that will be happening. just wait for it.

to the rest of you, thank you so much for leaving reviews and following the story and just being amazing 3

* * *

"You look like you're gonna throw up."

"Shut up."

"Do you want me to get you some ice chips?"

"Shut up."

"Water?"

"I'm going to hit you."

"Maybe some tea?"

"I'm not kidding."

"Do you want me to rub your tumm-"

Scott gets interrupted by Stiles tackling him, both of them falling to the floor in a tangle of limbs, Scott getting the air knocked out of him when Stiles manages to punch him in the stomach.

Stiles suddenly regrets all those times he made fun of Scott for being nervous about going out with Allison.

Because now he gets it, okay?

He gets the jitters and sweaty hands and upset stomach and the urge to curl into the fetal position and never have to stare anyone in the face again, much less the person he actually wants to _see_.

It's been a little over a month since he last saw Derek in person, and now that the day they're supposed to meet is finally here, Stiles's nerves are _wrecked_.

At the same time he wants the hours to speed away until he gets to see Derek, he wants them to pass by as slowly as possible so he doesn't actually have to _see_ Derek.

He knows how crazy he sounds.

Everyone he's met already took the time to repeatedly tell him he's being ridiculous.

The number of texts exchanged between them went up after Derek told him he wouldn't take no for an answer for them to go out on Friday, so much so that Derek sent him a message saying he had to upgrade his plan.

**From: Derek**

_I now have an unlimited texting plan._

**From: Derek**

_This is all your fault._

Stiles couldn't help but feel a little smug when he read that, weirdly happy about how Derek must talk to him so much that he had to do something about it.

**To: Stiles**

_omg baby i'm so proud of you_

**To: Stiles**

_and i'm so going to text you all the time now you'll get tired of me_

It took him about three seconds after he hit send to realize that he had called Derek _baby_, but by then he already had got a reply from Derek that made his heart skip a beat.

**From: Derek**

_I'd never get tired of you._

Just that sentence was enough to make Stiles' day when he got it, and also enough to make him really fucking anxious about seeing Derek today.

Sometimes he thinks he's only this nervous because he's not talking to Derek.

Whenever they're texting or the little free time they get to call each other and speak on the phone, Stiles is fine.

He's more than fine, actually.

It's like as soon as he hears Derek's voice or reads something he has to say, everything is alright in Stiles' life.

Sometimes Stiles wonders if it's possible to be this co-dependent on someone he's barely ever...

He can't say _met_ anymore, not really, not when he's come to learn so much about Derek's life this past month and vice-versa.

It's just that they haven't _met in person_ more than twice.

So maybe it is possible.

Maybe it is possible that he feels this connected to Derek when they haven't seen in other in a while, because they still talk everyday.

Derek still tells him about how Boyd is out of the hospital but has to do some physical therapy because the injury affected the movements of his left hand, and that his girlfriend, Erica, cut back her shifts at the garage so she could help him at home, and about how Isaac and Cora are looking for their own apartment in town, and that Laura and his Uncle Peter are helping their mother with the legal part of opening a bar and making sure she has everything she needs.

And Stiles still rants about his dad's diet to him, and how Danny started doing yoga and has a crush on one of his instructors, Ethan, and how Lydia and Allison won the love of the hospital nurses when they stood up to Dr. Harris when they saw him being disrespectful to one of the new girls on staff, about Scott and Jackson's ongoing bet on who can rescue more kittens from trees, and Mrs. McCall's new brownie recipe that is _to die for_.

They _know_ what kind of person the other is, and they know stuff about each other's lives.

Their relationship is not based merely on having seen each other in person, but it's about the things they have shared with each other during the almost two months since they've met.

And that's all going to come to a head.

Today.

So yeah, Stiles is _terrified_ of seeing Derek.

And he sort of also_ can't fucking wait_.

Which is why he lets go of Scott and slides to the floor beside him, both breathing hard.

"I'm sorry I ever made fun of you for being nervous about going out with Allison," Stiles tells him, because it's never too late to apologize for something.

Scott pats him on the stomach with the back of his hand, "It's okay, dude."

"You're only saying that because now I'm the one about to hurl, aren't you?" Stiles turns his head to the side to stare at his best friend.

"Yep," Scott beams at him, getting up from the floor and extending a hand to help Stiles to his feet.

"Are you two done rolling around the floor together?" Allison asks as she walks into Stiles' living room, sitting down on the couch and opening the bag of pretzels she has in one hand.

"Yes," Scott grins, flopping down beside her and sticking a hand inside the bag.

Stiles rests his hands on his hips and looks down at his friends, biting back a smile.

"Are you two going to tell me what you're doing here?" Stiles asks them, spreading his arms and gesturing to his apartment. "In my _house_? Just before I go out with _Derek_?"

"We just want to make sure you're doing okay," Allison says, and then adds, "And Lydia made me promise to help you find something decent to wear."

Stiles purses his lips together at that. "I don't really know whether to be offended or find that really sweet."

Allison just nods at him around a mouthful of pretzels, shifting around on the couch until she can lean her shoulder against Scott's chest.

Stiles shakes his head at them, at how _cute_ they are together, and turns his attention back at Scott.

"That explains what your girlfriend is doing here," Stiles points a finger at him. "But not you."

"I have to make sure Derek's clear," Scott says as he goes for more pretzels, missing the way Stiles' face shuts down as he hears that.

"You have to make sure Derek's _clear_," Stiles repeats, not really believing what he's hearing.

"Yep," Scott agrees. "I have to make sure he's a good person before you two go out."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

Stiles doesn't really want to know the answer.

He already has an idea of what Scott is going to do, and he knows he's not going to like it.

At least he's lucky Lydia's at the hospital and not sitting right here with them.

Because whatever she'd do would be a thousand times worse than what Scott has planned.

"I'm going to talk to him," Scott tells him, like it's no big deal.

"You're going to talk to him."

"Yep."

"You're not going to talk to him, Scott," Stiles says slowly, narrowing his eyes when Scott turns to look at him.

"Yes, I am," Scott says, raising an eyebrow before breaking into a smirk. "I promised your dad."

"You _what_?" Stiles shrieks, hands clenching into fists by his side as he gapes at him best friend.

Scott's smile drops at Stiles' reaction, replaced by a frown. "We're worried about you."

"Why? I'm not fifteen anymore, _Scotty_. So, _why_?" Stiles knows that's a dumb question, because they're doing this because they love him, so he quickly adds, "You don't even _know_ him. You've never even spoken to him in your _life_. He's never given any of you any reason for you to think he's not a good person. So _what the fuck_, Scott?"

"You said it," Scott says. "We don't know him. We have no idea what kind of person he is, so of course we're worried. We love you, man, we don't want you to get hurt."

"Could you at least_ for once in your life_ believe that I'm a good judge of character? And that when I say Derek's a good person, I actually _mean it_? And that I know what the fuck I'm doing when it comes to _wanting him_?" Stiles snaps, running a hand through his hair. "And yeah, Scott, I might get hurt. But it might not be because of Derek. It might be because my dad and my best friend in the whole world don't trust me when it comes to deciding what's best for me. Did you even think of that before coming here? That this isn't your choice to make? Or your life to live? And that I appreciate your concern, and I even love you for it, but I don't _need it_?" Stiles rolls his eyes. "Well, at least not now. But if I one day decide that I think fruit in my pizza is the best thing ever, please be concerned."

Stiles is breathing a little hard after he's done saying his piece, his lips pressing in a thin line as he sees the wounded and at the same time apologetic look on his best friend's face.

Allison has her hand on Scott's arm, her eyes darting from Stiles to Scott, her face carefully blank of emotion.

"Pizza isn't supposed to be healthy," Scott says tentatively, breaking the silence that fell over them after Stiles' speech.

Stiles tries to keep his lips from curling up, but he can't.

He knows that this is Scott raising his white flag without having to say that Stiles has a point, because as much as his friend can see that his worry is being seen as he and Stiles' dad keeping Stiles from living his life the way he wants to, he still thinks he has a right to be concerned about Stiles.

Because he _loves him_.

So by making a joke Scott is showing that he gets what Stiles is trying to say and will let him make his own decisions from now on, won't stand in his way, will let him be his own man and take his chances.

Stiles knows he's also saying he'll be there for him in case whatever it is that he and Derek have falls through.

So Stiles just shakes his head at Scott and says, "It's really not."

"You two have the weirdest friendship I've ever seen," Allison remarks as Scott gets up from the couch and hugs Stiles', both of them giving each other taps on the back before letting go.

"Thank you," Stiles says, feeling oddly touched.

Scott lets out a snort as he sits beside Allison again, throwing an arm around her shoulder. "It's impossible to have any other kind of friendship with Stiles."

"I resent that," Stiles mock glares at his friend.

"You and Ally bonded over who had seen the worst exposed fracture wounds in a person," Scott shakes his head at him, exasperated. "That's weird, dude."

"You mean _awesome_," Allison corrects him, fist bumping Stiles when he raises his hand at her.

"You two are gross," Scott scrunches his face up at them, nose wrinkling.

"You love us!" Stiles says loudly as he flops down on the couch beside Scott, smacking a kiss on one of his cheeks as Allison places one on the other.

"Oh god," Scott mumbles, face being crushed between the two of them.

Stiles and Allison both pull back laughing, Allison kissing Scott on the nose as Stiles punches him in the shoulder lightly.

They all sit there in silence for a few beats, Stiles and Allison both trying to catch their breaths while Scott wipes at both of his cheeks with mock disgust in his face.

"So," Stiles says, looking past Scott to Allison. "I remember you telling me you're here to help me not make a fool out of myself."

"Yes, I am," Allison grins at him. "I'm also supposed to take pictures and send them to Lydia for future reference."

Stiles groans, "Great."

"At least she's not here," Scott whispers, earning an elbow to the stomach from Allison. "What? She's scary."

"She really is," Stiles says in agreement.

Allison presses her lips in a thin line, not saying anything.

"But you're even _scarier_," Scott tries, offering her a sweet smile.

Allison rolls her eyes at him and places the pretzel bag on his lap, getting up and tilting his her at Stiles.

"Let's go," she says, resting her hands on her hips. "We have work to do."

Stiles latches on to Scott, winding his arms around his best friend's waist as he yells, "Save me, Scotty!"

Allison grabs him by the ankle and starts dragging him forward, Scott sliding down on the couch in the process, bag falling to the side, all of them laughing.

"Dude, your girlfriend's seriously strong," Stiles comments as Scott tries to hang on to the back of the couch.

"Thank you," Allison grunts as she tugs at Stiles' leg, nails biting against his skin.

"Oh my god, Stiles," Scott huffs, wiggling as he tries to shake Stiles' grip on him. "Just go with her."

"She's going to make me try on clothes," Stiles whines, holding him tighter and pressing his face against Scott's chest.

"You want to look good for Derek, don't you?" Allison asks sweetly, taking hold of Stiles' other ankle and walking backwards.

Scott slides further down the couch at that, his shirt riding up and pants being tugged down when Stiles refuses to let him go.

"Yeah, man," Scott nods, letting go of one of the couch cushions to try and pull his pants up. Or shirt down, Stiles' not sure. "You want to make a good impression don't you?"

"He first saw me when I was in my bunny suit," Stiles reminds them, shaking his legs and trying to dislodge Allison's hands from his legs. "I think I could be wearing orange tights and a blue blazer and he'd still want me."

His voice goes a little breathless at that.

Now if it's because of the thought of Derek wanting him even if he is dressed horribly or because of the way he still hasn't managed to make Allison let go of him, he doesn't know.

"We don't want to take that risk, do we?" Allison asks, giving one final tug and sending Scott and Stiles to the ground.

Stiles admits defeat when a few cushions plop down on the floor after them, one of them hitting Scott in the face as he tries to pull his shirt down from where it's rumpled up under his arms. He makes Stiles finally let go of him by kicking him in the thigh, Allison letting go of his ankles when she's sure he's not going to run away from her again.

"No, we don't," Stiles pouts, getting up from the floor and walking up to Allison. "Alright, Ally, make me look good."

"I'll try my best," Allison nods solemnly, linking their arms together and leading Stiles to his room.

"Sure," Scott yells after them. "Just leave me here on the cold hard ground. _Alone_."

"Sure thing, honey!" Allison throws over her shoulder, giggling when she looks back at Stiles and sees him grinning.

She pushes Stiles to sit on his bed while she opens the doors to his closet, crossing her arms over her chest as she takes a first look at what she's working with.

"Do you know if he's picking you up with the bike?"

Stiles shrugs, reaching a hand into his pocket for his phone. "I can ask."

"Do it," she nods. "Because if he is, then you're going to need a jacket."

**To: Derek**

_we riding your bike tonight?_

It takes everything Stiles has in him not to type out and send _or something els_e? after that.

Because one of the many cons of not seeing Derek for a month and having met him in two is that Stiles hasn't slept with anyone.

Not that that has anything to do with Derek per se, mostly because Stiles hadn't slept with anyone in the seven months before even _knowing_ Derek existed anyway, but he likes to think Derek had something to do with it.

Like Stiles was just waiting for Derek to burst into his life so he could bust a nut.

Heh.

**From: Derek**

_Yes, we are._

"Yes for bike riding," Stiles tells Allison, not keeping the excited smile off his face.

The promise of having Derek that close to him was doing things to his body again.

Namely, _his dick_.

"Stop that," Allison says, throwing a shirt at him.

"Stop what?"

"With your _I'm thinking dirty things about Derek_ face."

Another shirt follows, hitting Stiles in the face as he sputters.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he presses his lips into a thin line, forcing the blush to recede from his cheeks.

Allison just turns from raiding his closet and raises an eyebrow at him.

"Oh my _god_, fine!" Stiles throws his arms up in defeat, staring down at the shirts in his hands. "Are these options?"

One of them is a light blue button down from Stiles' high school days. It fits a bit snugly across his shoulders and chest now, and the only reason he still keeps it in his closet is because it was the shirt he wore when he went out on his first date.

He's sentimental, sue him.

The second option is a black short-sleeved henley that was a gift from Lydia. He was a bit surprised when she gave it to him, since such simple and comfortable clothes always seemed to be beneath her personal taste. When he told her as much she only rolled her eyes at him and said that nice clothes were clothes that fit well and looked good, no matter how much they cost.

"Yes," Allison says without bothering to look back at him. "The blue one is in case you want to look _nice_, and the black one if you want to look _hot_."

"You want to look hot," Scott pipes up from the where's he's now standing by the door, stepping into Stiles' bedroom and sitting on the bed beside him. "You can look nice when you bring him to the _Weekly Dinner_."

Stiles just blinks at Scott when his best friend smiles, because Stiles knows he's talking about _the Weekly Dinner_.

As in, the McCall-Stilinski Weekly Dinner.

Where his dad and Mrs. McCall will be.

He still remembers when Scott brought Allison to introduce her to his family, mostly because Stiles had to help Scott run interference between Scott's mom and her, and how they all went out to get drunk after it was over.

Mrs. McCall has grown to like Allison since then, love her even, but that first dinner was rough.

All the questions about why a doctor would want to be with a firefighter and the intimidation and Mrs. McCall saying she just wanted to make sure Scott had found someone good for him.

It actually wasn't until Allison went to help her pick up dessert from the kitchen that she told Mrs. McCall Scott was like no one she had ever met: that he was a good guy and sweet and caring and that she was the luckiest woman in the entire world to have him for herself. And she knew that.

Dinner went smoothly after that, with Mrs. McCall taking a step back in trying to intimidate Allison into breaking up with Scott.

But still, Stiles doesn't even want to think about what his dad will do to Derek.

It might not be as horrible as what Scott told him happened when he went to have dinner and meet Allison's family, but he doubts it'll be anything good.

Especially since his dad takes a special kind of joy in interrogating his boyfriends and girlfriends and making sure they know he has guns and knows how to dispose of a body so no one will find it.

"I don't think I like you that much anymore," Stiles shakes his head, eyes looking down at the shirts on his lap.

"I promise to help you protect Derek against your dad," Scott pats him on the shoulder.

"No one can protect Derek against my dad," Stiles says, dropping his head on Scott's shoulder. "But thanks, buddy."

"No problem."

Allison decides to start throwing jeans at Stiles right then, hitting him both in the head and chest as she starts going through his pants and finding clothes for him to wear.

Stiles doesn't even have to take a long look at what he has in his hands now to see Allison picked the skinniest jeans he has in his closet, both also a present from Lydia.

Every change of the season she drags him shopping, saying that someone needs to keep his closet updated and who better to do it than her.

Stiles has long come to accept that whenever Lydia decides to go on a shopping spree, he should just go along and let her do whatever the fuck she wants. Arguing won't take him anywhere, and refusing to try out clothes will only mean she'll start tugging his pants down in the middle of the store until he gives in and goes to a dressing room.

"I don't think you should wear tight pants while riding a bike," Stiles muses out loud, pursing his lips together when Allison turns to him with a frown. "You know, mobility and all."

She turns to Scott then, only to have him shrug, "I don't know. I don't wear tight pants anyway, so it's never been a problem."

Allison huffs and turns back to the closet, rummaging through Stiles' collection of jeans as he occupies himself with staring down at the shirts she chose.

"So," Stiles starts, turning to Scott as he presses the black henley against his chest. "This one, yeah?"

Scott nods his assent, grabbing the black shirt from Stiles as he starts taking the one he's wearing off.

Just as he's pulling the shirt past over his head, he gets hit in the stomach by another pair of pants, Allison's muffled voice saying, "I think this one will look good."

Stiles gives her a thumbs up and finishes taking his shirt off, wondering when it became a normal thing in his life to strip while your best friend and his girlfriend were in the room.

He takes the henley from Scott and slips it on, the fabric stretching over his shoulder and chest and clinging tightly over everything else.

Allison motions for him to get up, so he does, doing a little twirl so Scott and Allison can see how the shirt fits his body.

"I like," both of them say at the same time.

Stiles makes a face at them, picking the jeans Allison last threw at him from the floor and walking to his bathroom.

He refuses to take his pants off in front of _both_ of them.

They might not have a lot of boundaries, but this is where Stiles draws the line.

He closes the door behind him and wastes no time in getting rid of the khaki pants he's currently wearing, trading them for the pair Allison gave him.

Stiles can't help the little sigh of relief he lets out when he sees it's one of his older pairs: the dark blue fabric washed out in some parts from use, the little rip on his left knee from when he and Scott were helping Mrs. McCall clean out her garage and his pants got caught on a loose screw, and the white tiny splatters of paint on one of the back pockets from helping Danny paint his kitchen cabinets.

Thinking about it, these are the most wrecked pair of jeans Stiles owns, so he steps out of the bathroom with a frown on his face and says, "Allison, these are my hobo jeans."

Scott lets out a snort and goes back to hugging one of Stiles pillows, smiling at Allison when she rolls her eyes at Stiles and says, "These are your _I don't care what kind of pants I wear because I know I'm hot anyways_ jeans."

What?

"What?"

"These jeans fit you," she explains. "You've worn them enough times now that they look good no matter what you wear them with. They've also been through enough washes that they're comfortable and give people the illusion that they can see your underwear," Allison squints a little as she stares at Stiles' ass. "Especially considering the little rip they have just under your right back pocket."

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times before going to stand in front of his full length mirror, turning around and looking over his shoulder so he can indeed see the little rip Allison is talking about.

Depending on the way he moves his ass, he can see the dark shade of red of his boxer briefs peaking through.

"I can't wear these," Stiles tugs at the waistband of his jeans as he turns to Allison, wide-eyed. "I can't go around flashing people my underwear."

"You're not going around flashing people your underwear," Allison comes to stand in front of his and rests her hands on his shoulders. "You're going around flashing _Derek_ your underwear."

"I don't like where this conversation is going," Scott mumbles under his breath, frowning down at Stiles' pillow.

"That little glimpse is only going to make Derek want to see _more_," Allison continues, ignoring her boyfriend. "He's going to be thinking about wanting to see all the rest of you, and not just that tiny little part of you."

Stiles purses his lips together as he thinks about that.

The argument that keeps coming back to mind is that Derek already saw him wearing his bunny suit, so it's pretty much a given that Stiles could go meet him while wearing nothing but a pair of knee-high striped white and pink stockings and Derek would still want to date him.

And he has to admit that although these are the type of jeans he wears when he's hanging around his apartment doing nothing but drinking beer, playing video games with Scott, or marathoning _Buffy, the Vampire Slayer_, they look really fucking good on him.

They stay low enough on his hips that if he stretches his shirt rides up and people can see the waistband of whatever boxer briefs he's wearing, they hug his ass like they were _made_ for it with the way they tighten when he has to bend over to pick something up, _and_ they make Danny whistle every time he sees Stiles wearing them.

A whistle from Danny is like the highest form of compliments.

Especially if he's told you repeatedly he doesn't want to sleep with you.

Stiles would know.

So he sighs and looks down at himself before looking back up at Allison and saying, "Okay, I'll wear them."

"Good," she grins at him. "Now, shoes."

"Can't I just wear my-"

"If you say black and white Adidas I'm going to call Lydia and make her come here," Allison threatens, narrowing her eyes at him.

Stiles looks at Scott for help, only to be met with Scott shaking his head and mouthing _do what she says_ at him.

"Ugh, fine," Stiles sighs, flopping down on his bed. "Do your worst."

Stiles ends up with a black pair of worn out sneakers, Allison continuing her task as she starts focusing on finding a jacket to go with the rest of Stiles' clothing.

"Why do you own so many hoodies?"

"Because I _like them_," Stiles scowls at her. "They're _comfortable_."

"I think you look good in them, dude," Scott pipes up, poking Stiles' in the ribs with his foot.

"You have to say I look good in everything," Stiles dismisses him with a hand. "You're my best friend. It's in the job description."

"Well, I'm not your best friend," Allison says, glancing from a gray blazer to a black leather jacket Stiles didn't even know he _owned_ before throwing the jacket at him. "And I say you're not wearing a hoodie to your first date with Derek."

"Is this mine?" Stiles looks down at the jacket. "I don't think this is mine."

"I think Danny gave it to you," Scott frowns down at the leather. "Or maybe Lydia. Or Jackson? I don't know, man, but it's definitely yours."

"And you're wearing it," Allison crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow at him, defying him to say no.

Stiles grits his teeth together and tries to remember that he likes Allison.

He slips the jacket on and goes to stand in front of the mirror again, eyes widening a little in surprise when he sees how he looks.

"Dude," Stiles breathes out. "Your girlfriend made me hotter than I normally am."

"Thanks," Allison beams at him, coming up behind him to hook her chin over his shoulder. "Derek is going to love you."

Stiles' stomach flips at that.

"I think he already does," Scott says from his place on the bed, grinning when he sees Stiles biting down on his bottom lip as his cheeks redden. "I think this is only going to make him love you _more_."

Scott goes as far as winking at him when Stiles shifts in place and mumbles a "Shut up" at him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Okay," Allison says, sticking a hand on Scott's front pocket and grabbing his phone. "Picture time."

Stiles rolls his eyes and wills his blush to go away, letting his arms fall to his sides as makes a face at the camera and lets Allison take a picture of him for Lydia.

"Done," Allison nods, typing out a message to Lydia as Stiles turns to look at himself in the mirror again and starts running his hand through his hair.

"Dude," Scott shakes his head at him. "You know the only thing your hair does is stick up everywhere. Except when it's wet."

"And I don't want wet hair while riding a bike," Stiles says dryly. "Yes, _mom_, I know."

"We should probably get going," Allison announces as she flops down on top of Scott on Stiles' bed, Scott's arms snaking around her waist and holding her tightly to him.

Stiles panics a little at that, freezing with his hand halfway up his head again.

"It's like we can see him starting to freak out," Scott whispers rather loudly, smirking in Stiles' direction. "Look at the way his hands are twitching."

Allison hits Scott on the arm, "Don't be mean to him. He's nervous about seeing Derek."

"I am," Stiles nods vigorously, swallowing hard. "I really am nervous about seeing Derek. Holy god. I'm seeing Derek. Like, _tonight_. In an hour. Oh my god. _Oh my god_."

"Fuck," Scott curses as he pushes Allison off his lap, walking up to Stiles and making him sit on the floor, resting a hand against the back of his neck and positioning his head between his legs. "Deep breaths, man. Deep breaths."

Stiles raises his head only long enough to glare at Scott, dropping it again and going back to trying to calm his breathing.

Allison joins them on the floor behind Stiles, pressing her chest against his back, her hands lying flat against his stomach.

"Come on," she says gently. "You're okay. It's okay. Everything will work out tonight, and you know why? Because you're amazing. Anyone would be lucky to have met you, let alone go on a date with you. So you don't have to worry about seeing Derek because, if I'm right, and I you both know I often am, he already likes you so much he won't even care about anything other than being able to spend some time with you."

"Yeah, Stiles," Scott chimes in. "And I know you're nervous about seeing him for the first time after a month, but you're both going to be okay. And Derek's going to be okay too. Actually, I think Derek will be so okay he'll jump you as soon as he lays eyes on you," Scott scrunches his nose up. "And that's something I don't wanna see, dude."

Stiles has to let out a chuckle at that, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as he lifts his head and stares Scott straight in the eye.

"Thanks," he rasps out as he leans back a little against Allison before pulling back, tapping his finger against the back of her hand so she can let him go. "I needed that."

"Anytime," they both say, Scott throwing an arm over his shoulders as Stiles gets back up. "You know how good I am at pep-talks."

"You learned from the master," Stiles gives him a small but genuine smile.

"Damn right."

"Do you want us to stay a little longer?" Allison asks him as Stiles grabs his jacket and steps out of his bedroom and into the living room, his friends trailing behind.

"Nah," Stiles shakes his head, his voice still sounding a little raw. "You guys can go ahead. I'll just stay here with my bag of pretzels and wait for him to call me."

"You sure, man?"

"We don't mind staying," Allison gives him a soft smile, dimples making an appearance.

"I'm sure," Stiles tells them. "I'll be okay. I'll call you if I'm not, but I will be."

"Good," Scott says, walking up to him and pulling him in a hug. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Allison is next, kissing him on the cheek. "And wear condoms."

Well, _fuck him_.

* * *

**From: Derek**

_I'm outside._

Stiles is not particularly proud at the way he falls off the couch when he reads Derek's message, his heart going into overdrive and his stomach flipping as he grabs his jacket, wallet, and keys and steps outside his apartment.

The entire elevator ride is filled with Stiles pacing the small room and running his hands through his hair, trying not to hyperventilate as he gets closer and closer to seeing Derek.

In person.

Outside his apartment building.

On his bike.

He jumps a little in place when the elevator doors open, licking his lips as he walks forward and makes his way outside.

Only to promptly feel like he got punched in the face.

Because Derek is leaning against his bike with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes glued to the entrance of Stiles' building.

His eyes glued to _Stiles_.

Stiles, who currently has to biggest fucking grin splitting his face, because Derek is _right there_, staring at him.

He walks down to Derek as if in a haze, barely aware of putting one foot in front of the other, hands itching to reach out and touch the closer he gets to where Derek is standing.

Derek is staring at him as if he's never seen him before, eyes soft and warm and lips tugged into a smile, _a real one_, not really as big as Stiles' but still there, making itself known.

He looks so fucking _gorgeous_ in dark jeans, white shirt, and a light jacket thrown over him that Stiles wants to throw _himself_ over him.

Stiles almost gets what he wished for as he stops right in front of Derek, hands clenched at his sides so he doesn't give in to the urge to _touch_.

"Hi," he says breathlessly, not really believing that he has this: Derek in front of him, after _weeks_ of not seeing each other and having to rely on texts and phone calls to pass the time.

"Hey," Derek answers quietly, moving so he's not leaning over the bike anymore, but standing tall in front of Stiles.

And _really fucking close_ to him.

"Can I say that I missed you?" Stiles blurts out, because he kind of _did_. "Am I allowed to say that? Because I know we've only seen each other twice before, so I don't know if missing you is something that's okay for me to be doing? But we've spoken practically every day since that day at the hospital so I feel like it is okay for me to be feeling that way. Like I miss you. And like I'm glad you're here, in front of me. _Finally_."

He does that when he's nervous.

Babbling.

It's a thing that happens and that he's not particularly fond of, but it's a part of him he's long learned to deal with.

He hopes Derek doesn't mind.

And judging by the way he's inching closer and smiling a little bit bigger, he doesn't.

"Yeah," Derek nods, and Stiles can see the way his Adam's apple moves as he swallows hard, can feels his breath ghost over his cheek. "You can. And I did, too. Miss you, that is."

Stiles finds a little bit of comfort in knowing that Derek is still as awkward as ever.

He also finds Derek fucking _adorable_, but that's par for the course by now.

And he also really wants to hug Derek.

And press his face against the side of his neck to see if he still smells like leather and wind and fucking _pine needles_.

And then kiss him.

Breathless.

Maybe forever.

So of course his mouth runs ahead of him and he asks, "Can I hug you?"

Derek looks a little taken aback by that, but before Stiles can say that he's _sorry_ and that_ forget I said anything_, Derek hooks his fingers on Stiles' belt loops and tugs him forward.

Stiles topples straight into Derek's chest, unbalanced.

That is until Derek gets his arms around Stiles' waist and props him up and keeps in place, his stubbled cheek scraping against the sensitive skin of Stiles' neck.

Stiles melts against him, winding his arms around Derek's shoulders and squeezing him tight, his nose smashed against the place between Derek's neck and shoulder, breathing him in.

He gives an entire body shudder, fingers playing with the fine hairs on Derek's nape, and he doesn't want to let go.

Ever.

Especially when he feels Derek hold him_ tighter_,_ closer_, tilting his face to the side so he can press his lips against the little spot behind Stiles' ear.

Stiles has to pull back at that, taking in Derek's flushed face and blown pupils, licking his lips when he sees Derek's eyes lock on his mouth.

"I really want you to kiss me right now," Stiles tells him, voice low. "I've been wanting you to kiss me since I saw you on your bike with bunny whiskers drawn on your face."

"Fuck," Derek curses under his breath, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as if hearing what Stiles has to say pains him.

Stiles just leans in closer until their noses are touching, his breath ghosting over Derek's parted lips.

"Derek," Stiles whispers. "C'mon."

The words barely left Stiles' mouth before Derek is on him, lips soft but demanding against his. He nips at Stiles' bottom lip before tracing his tongue over it, asking for permission to get inside, which Stiles gladly gives to him. He opens up to Derek and lets him lick his way inside his mouth, tongues tangling together as Stiles learns the taste and feel of Derek's mouth on his own.

He doesn't know how long they stay like that, locked together, kissing.

It might have been minutes or hours or years, all Stiles knows is that he never wants to stop.

And by the way Derek chases after him everytime he pulls back to change angles and kiss him again, Derek doesn't want to, either.

All the worries he had vanished the minute Derek's lips crashed against his.

The only thing that's left is that warm feeling spreading from his chest to the tips of his fingers that are currently running through Derek's hair.

Because this is it.

This is what he's been waiting for.

And it's just as wonderful as he had imagined.

Derek kisses him, this time softer, close-mouthed, again and again and again, stopping to rest their foreheads together and pant against Stiles' parted lips.

"Fuck," Derek mutters against him, darting his tongue out to lick his swollen lips and tracing Stiles' upper lip instead.

Stiles laughs at that, his happiness no longer able to be contained, because Derek is _here_.

His entire body shakes as he cups Derek's face between his hands and starts pressing tiny kisses all over his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his eyelids, the corner of his mouth, _everywhere_.

Derek is smiling and chuckling as he lets Stiles have his fill, his hands spasming against Stiles' hip as Stiles moves in to kiss him again.

"You done?" Derek asks when Stiles pulls back, lips red and used and still curled up in a smile.

"Nope," Stiles beams at him, shaking his head. "I don't think I'll ever be done."

Derek's small smile turns into a grin, eyes glinting as he leans in to peck Stiles on the lips one final time before saying, "I. Yeah. Good."

"So," Stiles starts, not making any moves to take his hands off of Derek or even take a step back. "Where are we going?"

"We have options," Derek says, leaning back against the bike and pulling Stiles more firmly against his chest in the process.

"I like options," Stiles nods, biting on his lips to keep himself from adding _and I also like your face_.

"We can go eat first," Derek explains. "Or we can take a ride first."

Stiles makes a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat as he pretends to consider it.

By the way Derek shakes his head at him and rubs their noses together, he already knows what Stiles' answer is going to be.

"For how long can we ride before grabbing something to eat?" Stiles asks, because he wants to be as close to Derek as long as he possibly can.

"A couple of hours," Derek shrugs one shoulder. "The whole night. Doesn't matter."

Stiles raises his eyebrows at him. "The whole night? Really? What kind of place that doesn't have a drive-thru or is in_ my own kitchen_ serves food whenever we want?"

Derek just keeps grinning at him, not saying anything.

Stiles blinks, fingers curling against the back of Derek' neck as an idea forms in his mind.

"Are you going to cook for me?"

Stiles doesn't think he can handle that.

Derek cooking.

Derek cooking _for him_.

Derek in a kitchen chopping veggies and stirring sauce and wearing an apron.

The images alone are too much for him, let alone actually seeing it happen.

Derek tilts his head so he's mouthing at Stiles' jaw, teeth raking lightly over the skin as he leans back a little and says, "I guess you'll find out."

Stiles lets out a choked-up groan at that, getting his hands on Derek's hair again and _tugging_.

"Let's go, then," Stiles tells him, smacking a kiss on his cheek. "No more waiting."

Derek snorts at him and lets him go, turning around so he can grab the spare helmet and hand it to Stiles, picking his from their place on the handlebars before slipping it on.

He lets Stiles use his shoulders to brace himself as he throws a leg up and straddles the bike, scooting back as soon as Stiles is in place.

Stiles, for his turn, wastes absolutely _no time_ in getting his arms around Derek's waist and pressing in close to him, his chest glued to Derek's back. He goes as far as getting a hand under Derek's shirt and jacket, laying it flat over the hot skin of Derek's stomach, the muscles shifting under his palm.

The bike roars to life and it's like Stiles is in heaven, the vibrations going through him and doing absolutely nothing to help the way his dick is already starting to react to having Derek's ass this close to him.

The hand that Stiles doesn't have under Derek's shirt taps him on the stomach once to let Derek know he's ready to go, Derek tracing the back of his hand with his fingers in acknowledgement, and then they're off.

If Stiles wasn't so attached to the Jeep as he is, he would have bought himself a bike long before even Scott thought to get one.

He loves the feeling of freedom he gets as he rides, the road stretched out in front of him, going on and on and on. He loves the wind against his face, bruising his cheeks, chapping his lips, the smell of asphalt and dirt and fuel filling his nose. He loves the way he can't hear anything past the sound of the motor running, the cars around him, his heart thumping wildly against his ears.

He loves how everything is a blur.

Everything but the miles ahead of him.

He and Derek ride for hours, the night getting darker and darker, street lamps shining bright, the streets filled with less and less people as more time passes.

Stiles bumps his chin against Derek's shoulder at the same time he slides the hand under Derek's shirt up, his palm coming to rest against his stomach and making circling motions as he tries to tell Derek to _stop_ and_ I'm hungry_.

Derek seems to get the gist of what Stiles is trying to say because he changes course, now riding with a destination in mind.

It doesn't take long for them to get where Derek wants them to be, Stiles climbing out of the bike as soon as Derek parks it and waiting for an explanation as to why it seems like they're both standing in front of an abandoned building at the edge of town, bars and diners surrounding it.

Derek takes Stiles' hand in his, entwining their fingers together as he walks up to the empty place, and Stiles notices it that it doesn't look as abandoned as much as it just looks empty, half-finished, like it's waiting for something or someone to decide what to do with it.

And it's not until Derek is reaching inside his jacket's pocket and coming up with a key that Stiles notices the sign hanging above the door.

"It's a triskele," Derek explains when he sees him looking. "It's a family thing."

"A family-," Stiles' eyes widen in understanding. "This is your mother's bar!"

"Yes, it is," Derek says as he pushes the door open, hand against the small of Stiles' back as he directs them inside.

It's pitch black inside, Stiles stopping as soon as he takes two steps in front of him and Derek shuts the door behind them, not wanting to risk tripping over his own feet and ending the night with a broken nose before they even got to do anything.

"Are you going to turn on the lights?" Stiles asks, squinting as he tries to see a feet in front of him.

He feels rather than sees Derek getting behind him, his warm breath ghosting against the shell of Stiles' ear as he says, "Close your eyes, and don't move."

Stiles takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, but not before seeing the light on Derek's phone turn on and illuminate a little bit of the place around them.

Not that he can really make out anything other than Derek's face.

Not that he really wants to, either.

"Is this the part where you _do_ turn on the lights and I see you brought me to your dungeon instead of a nice place where you could feed me?"

"I could feed you in my dungeon," Derek's voice comes from a few feet ahead of him, and Stiles' stomach flips at the implications of what Derek just said, of how confident he sounds in the dark. That is until he adds, "If you were good. And if I had one."

"I don't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved," Stiles admits loudly, ears straining to hear the sound of Derek's footsteps as he walks further into the bar.

"We'll leave the kink negotiation talk for some other time," Derek says, and a few seconds later he's turning the lights on, Stiles screwing his eyes shut at the sudden brightness.

When he opens them it is to find Derek leaning against the bar counter, arms crossed over his chest and an expectant look on his face.

What catches his attention first, besides the impressive collection of liquor bottles shelved up behind the bar, is that part of one of the walls behind Derek is covered with pictures, all of them different sizes and in different frames, some even black and white instead of in color.

He can't really distinguish anything from where he's standing, but he'll bet one of his balls that some of them are of Derek.

The second thing that catches his eyes is that all of the dark wooden tables that must cover half the floor are shoved up against another wall, chairs stacked on top of it, making the space between the door to the end of the bar even bigger than it already is.

The third and final thing that gets him is the one table and two chairs in the middle of the room.

The table that is _set_, with silverware and plates and glasses and napkins and a fucking red table cloth thrown under all of it.

The only thing missing are candles.

Stiles is biting down on his lip so fucking hard to keep himself from squealing that it's really not his fault his attention is focused on that and not on the words coming out of his mouth.

Those words being, "Oh my god, you're a _romantic_."

And judging by the way Derek's entire face twitches and his lips tug downward is a clear indicator that _that_ was _not_ the reaction he was hoping for when he decided to do this.

But before he can say anything or tell Stiles to _get the fuck out_, Stiles is already half-way across the room, cheeks red and eyes bright and smile huge as he walks up to Derek and throws himself at him.

Derek stumbles back against the counter, arms coming around Stiles to keep them from toppling sideways and to the ground.

"Oh my god, you're a _romantic_," Stiles repeats, voice high as he laughs against the skin of Derek's neck. "That's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

When he pulls back Derek is looking a little bit confused and a lot fond at him, his lips pressed together as if he wants to smile but doesn't think he should.

"Seriously," Stiles shakes his head, smirking at Derek. "I thought you were more of a late night diner cheap beer and ice cream kind of guy."

"We can do that too," Derek says quietly, awkward once again now that the lights are on and Stiles can see him. "If you want to."

"I want all the things," Stiles kisses him once. "With you." Twice. "Please." One more time.

Derek gets a hand on the back of Stiles' neck and keeps him in place at that, deepening the kiss, their teeth clashing together because they're both smiling too wide to make it good.

They still somehow manage to make it great, though.

And Stiles knows again that he never wants this to go away.

Never wants to let go of Derek and not have him here, with him.

"We can have that too," Derek says softly as he breaks the kiss. "If you want to."

"I wanna," Stiles nods, nose bumping against Derek's.

Derek's face softens at that, lips curling up in a smile before he holds Stiles tighter only to let him go a second later.

"Come on," Derek says, grabbing his hand and walking past the counter. "I have food to cook."

Stiles curses under his breath as Derek leads them to a door behind the bar, pushing it open to reveal a kitchen.

Because Derek _is_ going to cook for him.

And he'll get to _watch_.

He must make an involuntary noise because Derek turns at him, eyebrow raised in silent question.

"I can't be held responsible for my actions," Stiles starts, making Derek frown. "Because I'm pretty sure watching you cook is going to be the death of me."

"As long as you don't jump me while I'm handling knives," Derek shrugs one shoulder, turning back.

But not before Stiles can see the smirk on his lips.

Or the faint blush now starting on the tip of his ears.

Stiles suddenly really wants to kiss him.

So he does, leaning forward and brushing his lips against the back of Derek's neck.

Derek's hand tightens against his, the back of his neck flushing deep red as Stiles pulls back and smiles smugly at himself.

And then Derek is stopping, crowding him against one of the kitchen counters, hands under his ass hoisting him up so that he's sitting on top of it, Derek moving in between his spread thighs.

Stiles barely had time to let out a whimper before Derek's lips are-

Not on his.

An inch away from his, instead.

His eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Don't move," Derek tells him, placing a kiss on the corner of Stiles' lips before pulling back.

He walks to the fridge and starts taking things out, back turned to Stiles.

Stiles, who's torn between wanting to stick a hand down his pants and finish what Derek started, or walk up to him and punch him in the stomach for walking away.

He settles for watching Derek as he works, peering curiously at all the ingredients he's setting on the counter.

"What are we eating?" Stiles can't help but ask, stomach growling.

Derek lets out a snort as he hears the noise, Stiles' hand coming to rest against his own stomach a he offers Derek a sheepish smile.

"Don't worry. I promise I won't leave you waiting long."

"Good," Stiles nods. "We've done enough of that for a lifetime."

"Yeah," Derek agrees. "We have."

"But seriously," Stiles says after a few beats of silence where Derek grabs a knife and goes to work. "What are we eating?"

"Spaghetti," Derek starts, lips twitching up when Stiles gasps delightedly at the prospect. "With marinara sauce and-"

"Meatballs?" Stiles asks, excited.

"Meatballs," Derek nods, resigned. "Just like-"

"In _Lady and the Tram_p," Stiles fills in, grinning wildly.

Derek had called him a few weeks ago while Stiles was grocery shopping, walking around the store aisles and trying to think of something to make for his turn at cooking for the Weekly McCall-Stilinski Dinner.

He immediately roped Derek into helping him, even though all he could do was throw ideas at him through the phone and listen as Stiles slowly went out of his mind as he vetoed each and everyone of them on the basis that he was a twenty-something year old paramedic who barely had time to make himself tuna sandwiches and order takeout, let alone actually_ cook something complicated for dinner_.

"My skills are somewhere in between not burning popcorn and successfully cooking pasta with meatballs and rice," Stiles had whined pathetically to him, letting his head drop so his forehead was resting against his shopping cart handlebar.

"Pasta with meatballs," Derek repeated thoughtfully. "You can go with that."

"I can't," Stiles sighed. "I always go with that. Dad and Mrs. McCall already told me the next time I cook them pasta with meatballs they're going to make me eat it all and then they'll order pizza for themselves."

"Where did you learn to cook it, anyway?" Derek asked, adding, "Tell me about it while I think of something easy that won't make you burn down your house or lose a limb."

"You're hilarious," Stiles said flatly, and then took a deep breath to brace himself for telling him about his history with pasta and meatballs. "My mom taught me. Well, sort of. I was really big fan of the_ Lady and the Tramp_ when I was little, because my dad used to let me play with the police dogs before they went up to training and I love dogs. So when I saw the movie and saw them eating-"

"Pasta with meatballs," Derek interrupted him, sounding fond.

"Yep," Stiles said. "I kind of got obsessed. Especially with the meatballs. I'd ask my mom if I could have only them for breakfast and then eat the rest of it later with pasta for lunch and dinner. At one point I would eat_ anything_ with meatballs. Salad, sandwiches, cake, soup, even _more_ meatballs. So she thought it'd be fun if we could learn how to make them ourselves."

"So she taught you," Derek filled in.

"She did," Stiles nodded, even though Derek couldn't see him. "I didn't learn how to make pasta until a few years after she died, but the combination always makes me think of her. And how I never got to do the whole spaghetti kiss thingy from _Lady and the Tramp_. It's kind of a dream of mine."

"Really," Derek deadpanned. "Your dream is to share the same plate of spaghetti with someone, grab the same line, and kiss."

"Yep," Stiles said solemnly. "And if you make fun of me, I'll never take your calls again."

Derek hadn't made fun of him, he had just chuckled slowly and told him to go with cheesy baked rice instead.

And now Stiles is sitting here, on the counter of Derek's mom's bar kitchen as he watches Derek make him _meatballs_.

Stiles thinks he's in love.

Not that he's going to say anything about it.

Other than, "You're kind of amazing, Derek Hale," that is.

The tip of Derek's ears flush deeper, him gruffing out a rough, "I- Thanks," as he minces onions.

"Can I help?" Stiles bites down on his bottom lip, fingers itching to do something.

"You don't have to," Derek tells him, frowning a little. "That's not why I chose to-"

"I _want t_o," Stiles interrupts him, shaking his head. "I want to help. I want to do this with you."

And truth is, Stiles_ really_ does.

Because the only memories he has of this is with his mom, when she could still stand and move around in the kitchen without have to sit down and rest every ten minutes.

And then after she died, when Stiles tried to bring that little piece of her and_ them_ back and ended up having to get stitches because he was a kid who cut his finger while trying to chop onions.

His dad made him promise not to do anything like that again.

And he didn't.

Not until years later when he knew how to be more careful, knew how to put pressure on a wound to make it stop bleeding, knew how to put a small patch of burned skin under running water until it didn't hurt that bad anymore.

So he wants this, with Derek.

He wants to make new memories to add to the old ones so they don't hurt so much anymore.

"I want to," Stiles says again, voice soft. "Really."

Derek looks at him for a beat or two before nodding, frown being replaced by an amused smile when Stiles throws his arms up in celebration and slides off the counter.

"Grab a bowl. Water. Eggs. You know what to do, right?"

Stiles beams and nods, all excited energy to be able to not only _watch_ Derek as he cooks, but also be a part of it.

He grabs a bowl from one of the cabinets behind Derek, filling it with water and grabbing the eggs Derek laid out on the counter.

They cook in silence for a while, just basking in each other's company as Stiles waits for Derek to finish with the onions so they can start combining everything.

Stiles feels incredibly at home here, with Derek, both of them sharing the same space and working together to make something.

He can't help but feel _really fucking happy_ as he notices how well they move around the kitchen, the ease in which they help each other without any of them having to say anything first, just filling in the gaps like it's second nature to have Derek hand him a cloth so he can dry his hands or him wiping away a few bread crumbs that got stuck on Derek's stubble when he scratched his chin.

He likes to think this is a sign of how their relationship will work, how they'll be good together and how they'll complement each other.

The night gets even better when it's time for them to start rolling the beef into tiny meatballs, their hands dirty and sticky as Derek leans in to place a kiss on Stiles' cheek, the side of his neck, the corner of his mouth.

Stiles feels like he's in cloud nine, his eyes bright and warm with joy as he returns all of those kisses and more, plastering himself across Derek's back after he's washed his hands and Derek starts arranging the meatballs in a broiler pan.

"You look really sexy like this," Stiles says against Derek's shoulder, nose pressed against the warm spot behind his ear, breathing him in.

"Smelling like raw beef and onions?" Derek asks, trying to sound put out but failing miserably. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Stiles teases, letting go of Derek so he can finish up with he's doing. "And I meant like this, handling a knife, knowing your way around a kitchen, cooking me food."

"Do you have a barefoot-and-in-my-kitchen kind of fantasy I should know about?" Derek raises an eyebrow at him, bringing a hand up to cup Stiles' cheek before saying, completely devoid of emotion, "Because I ain't nobody's woman."

Stiles blinks at him before bursting out laughing, head thrown back and exposing his throat, shoulders shaking.

He cuts off abruptly when he feels something warm and wet against the hollow of his throat, making its way up until it reaches his chin.

He trades his fingers through Derek's hair to keep him in place, letting out a low moan when he feels teeth follow the same path, scraping lightly over his skin.

Stiles makes a happy sound when Derek mashes their lips together, licking past the seam of Stiles' lips and into his mouth, letting Stiles suck on his tongue as he gets his hands under Stiles' shirt and rests them against the small of his back.

Stiles feels them like a brand, the warmth of Derek's palms running up his spine, making him shiver, making him press closer to Derek's chest, making him _want_.

He doesn't deepen the kiss, though, nor does he make it more than the slow rhythm Derek has going, taking his time savoring Stiles, like he has all the time in the world to do this, like he wants to learn everything there is to know about Stiles' mouth, how he likes to be kissed, what makes him sigh and moan and melt in Derek's arms.

Stiles likes this almost as much as he thinks he'll like finally having Derek.

Because this, what they're doing right now, is getting to know each other.

They're learning about each other's bodies and what makes them tick and the fact that Derek wants to take his time to do that is enough to make Stiles feel like the best person in the world.

It makes him feel wanted and cherished and _Derek's_.

He lets his hands fall to Derek's chest, resting against his heart, feeling the beat rapid but steady under his palm.

Stiles doesn't push him away, but doesn't bring him closer, either.

Doesn't think he can.

Because Derek feels as close to him as he's going to get without them losing their clothes, and Stiles doesn't think that's appropriate behavior when standing in the middle of a _kitchen_.

Or sanitary.

He still makes a sound of protest when Derek breaks the kiss, though, fingers clutching at the fabric of his white shirt to keep him from pulling away.

"We should start with the pasta," Derek says, sounding a little dazed.

"Fuck," Stiles groans, letting his head drop against Derek's shoulder. "I don't think anyone has ever made _cooking_ sound as hot as you just did."

"It's a gift," Derek says flatly.

Stiles lifts his head up lo stare Derek straight in the eye.

"I think I've gotten better at figuring out when you're joking now that you're in front of me."

"You've had practice," Derek gives him a small smile.

"Yes, I did," Stiles agrees. "But let's never do that again, okay? Having to wait over two months just to see was _torture_."

"I'm make sure to tell Boyd not to _almost die_ next time I see him," Derek tells him. "Wouldn't want to inconvenience you."

Stiles winces, scrubbing the back of his neck as he eyes Derek from under his lashes and asks, "How is he, by the way?"

"Therapy is going well. Boyd can already close his hand almost all the way to a fist." Derek says, hands rubbing circles against Stiles' back under his shirt. "Erica, though?"

"Still terrorizing everyone?" Stiles guesses, smirking when Derek shakes his head.

He has about twenty texts from Derek that start with _I'm going to kill Erica_, all followed by the most recent story of how she's driving everyone crazy.

His favorite one is when she sent Derek a text telling him to _come quick i need your help_. When he got to her and Boyd's apartment after breaking about five traffic laws, it was only to find out the emergency was that she didn't have anymore beer in the house and couldn't go out to buy it in case Boyd needed something.

Stiles laughed for days.

She was his kind of girl.

"Mom said the next time she gets a call from Erica asking to come over and help her with something, she's going to shank her."

"Your mom is kind of scary," Stiles tells him, remembering about how calm and collected she seemed when Boyd was hurt. "And I always wondered why she didn't freak out when Boyd almost lost his head."

"The kids in our family used to get hurt a lot when we were kids," Derek explains, a shadow passing over his eyes, gone before Stiles can figure out what it is. "We were always running around the property, climbing trees, going places we shouldn't. People coming to her with cuts or broken bones is something she's used to."

"Scott's mom is like that," Stiles says, smiling a little as he thinks of her. "Sometimes I don't know if it's because she's a nurse or because Scott and I pretty much spent our entire childhood with some kind of injury or other."

"You hit walls a lot, huh?" Derek smirks at him.

It takes Stiles a moment to remember he's referring to the way Stiles hit his elbow when they were in the elevator that day at the hospital.

And then his mind goes to the way he felt then, pressed closed to Derek, pretending to be his partner, having Derek tell him he couldn't wait for them to have kids of their own.

His throat dries up as he stares at Derek right now, in front of him, face going from teasing to worried as more and more time passes without Stiles saying anything.

"Hey," Derek starts saying, only to be interrupted by Stiles blurting out, "I want that."

He snaps his mouth shut with a click as soon as the words tumble out, trying to take a step back from Derek, only to have him snake his arms more firmly around Stiles' waist and hold him in place.

Stiles knows this is too soon, knows that if he tries to explain what he meant, he'll scare Derek off.

But at the same time he wants to lay all his cards on the table, tell Derek that he wants him and that he's worth it and that he wants everything Derek's willing to give him and more.

In the end he doesn't have to say anything, though, Derek filling in the silence for him.

"The mom," Derek says slowly, as if he's thinking and stringing sentences together in his mind before letting them out. "At the hospital. The one who thought we were a couple."

Stiles nods when Derek doesn't continue, worrying at his lower lip so he doesn't end up saying anything to mess things up.

"That's. I. You want that?" Derek asks, tilting his head to the side as he stares at Stiles intensely.

Stiles can feel Derek's heartbeat speed up under his palm.

"Yes," Stiles says without hesitation. "I want that. I want us. I want there to be an us," he licks his lips. "If that's alright with you."

Derek's lips twitch up and up and up until he's full on smiling, teeth and dimples showing, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Stiles thinks he's never look this gorgeous before.

It physically pains him to stare at Derek in the eye right then, so he closes his and leans forward, Derek's breath ghosting over his lips as Derek whispers, "That's alright with me," and kisses him.

They kiss and kiss and kiss until the timer chimes, telling them the meatballs are ready.

"We should probably start on the rest of the food," Stiles says, pecking Derek on the lips. "I'm hungry."

"As you wish," Derek says, patting him on the ass before letting go of him and moving to the stove.

Derek breaks the wine while they wait for their food to be ready, turning on the radio they found in one of the hidden corners of the kitchen and talking as music plays lowly on the background.

Stiles loves how they don't struggle to make conversation, both of them already comfortable enough with each other to always have something to talk about.

He loves how Derek seems more and more relaxed as the time passes, his smiles wider and his eyes warmer as he listens to Stiles tell him about having to listen to Danny wax poetically about his yoga instructor's flexibility and about how he thinks his dad is going to move in with Mrs. McCall and how Scott plans to propose to Allison sometime soon.

He loves the way Derek's voice sounds incredibly fond as he talks to him about Isaac and Cora's adventures in apartment hunting and how they can't wait to move out of the house his uncle and mom and Laura live in, how his Uncle Peter is thinking about passing him the ownership to the garage, how Erica convinced Boyd to let her paint their living room red when he was doped up in painkillers, and how Laura and his mom are having the time of their lives setting up the bar.

And Stiles especially loves how this is the nicest first date he's ever been on, and they haven't even gotten around to eating yet.

His heart almost bursts out of his chest when Derek deems the pasta and sauce ready and places a big plate on the counter, giving Stiles a smug grin when he hears the high-pitched "oh my _god_" and breathless laugh he lets out.

Derek spills the pasta on the plate, covering it with sauce and then strategically placing an even number of meatballs all over it.

"Grab the wine?" Derek asks, balancing the hot plate on his hands and trying not to burn himself.

"Yes, dear," Stiles bats his lashes at him, getting the wine and their glasses before following Derek outside and to their table in the middle of the bar.

It's when they both sit down, on across from the other on the table, that Stiles looks from the big plate of pasta to the normal ones both he and Derek have.

"So," Stiles clasps his hands together, eyeing the food with determination. "How are we going to do this?"

"You look like you're going to war," Derek comments when Stiles starts rolling his shoulders.

"I'll probably get sauce on my shirt sooner rather than later, anyway," Stiles waves a hand in front of him. "But really. We have the big plate and little plates and I want to know if we plan on doing this like actual grown up human beings or reenacting the kiss scene from my favorite childhood movie and making this the best night of my life."

"If I knew it only took spaghetti to make you this happy, I would have done this sooner," Derek says lowly, and then frowns. "And should I be offended that this is so far _not_ the best night of your life?"

Stiles rolls his eyes at him, trying not to look too pleased at Derek's words.

"I know what you're doing."

"What is that?" Derek asks him, failing to look innocent.

"You, big guy, are fishing for compliments," Stiles points a finger at him. "Compliments you don't need because you already know you have me."

Derek blinks at him, face softening as his cheeks flush and he gives Stiles the most unguarded and vulnerable look Stiles has ever seen in his life.

It makes him want to go to Derek and wrap him in his arms and _never ever let go_.

"Yeah?"

Stiles reaches a hand across the table and takes Derek's hand in his, entwining their fingers together and giving it a squeeze, "Yeah."

"Good," Derek nods, clearing his throat. "That's- I'm glad."

"Me too," Stiles says softly, the moment they're having ruined when his stomach growls.

Stiles makes a face at his belly, missing the way Derek smiles but hearing the sounds of his laugh.

"C'mon, Bunny," Derek teases, eyes glued to the rosy patches that appear on Stiles' cheeks and neck. "Time to feed you."

They decide to eat on their plates first, Derek serving him about the double of meatballs he got for himself, trapping Stiles' feet under the table between his legs when Stiles looks at down at his food like he's about to cry.

"You gave me almost all of the meatballs," Stiles mutters, pressing his lips together to keep himself from _doing something_.

Like bursting out _crying_.

And he thinks it says something about what kind of friends he has when someone giving him their share of the food is almost enough to bring him to tears.

The last time he tried to fight someone for the last spring roll, Lydia almost blinded him with her chopstick.

"You like them more than I do," Derek shrugs as if it's nothing.

And then when Stiles doesn't make a move to grab his fork and start eating, he reaches a hand across the table and starts pushing a meatball with his knife around the plate, much like Tramp does with his nose in the movie.

"You're supposed to do that with your nose," Stiles reminds him, trying to make light of how _affected_ he is by a stupid fucking _meatball_.

Derek rolls his eyes at him.

"We'll share a pasta string and kiss later," Derek promises. "Now eat your food."

"Alright, alright," Stiles mumbles, doing as he's told.

They eat mostly in silence, which is something Stiles appreciates.

He doesn't really like having to hold up a conversation with people when he has half-chewed food in his mouth.

Or when Derek is picking the end of the longest pasta string and sucking it into his mouth, offering Stiles the other end with his fork.

Stiles can't really concentrate on sucking the pasta because he's smiling so much, eyes bright as he takes in Derek's furrowed brows in concentration and the flush on his cheeks, ears, and neck when he notices Stiles looking.

When they finally meet in the middle Stiles doesn't think a kiss has ever taste this sweet, or felt this good, or made him feel like he's on top of the world.

There's even less talking after that, Derek too busy blushing down at his plate to say anything, and Stiles still trying to keep himself from smiling too wide.

Stiles does tell Derek how amazing everything tastes after they're finished, though.

"Thanks," Derek answers, lowering his head and trying to hide a pleased smile from Stiles.

"Anytime," Stiles says, not calling him on it. "Really. Feel free to cook for me whenever you want."

"I will," Derek nods, grabbing his glass. "As long as you feel free to help me do it."

"Oh," Stiles teases, not really able to help himself. "I'll help you do it."

Derek almost chokes on his wine, glaring at Stiles as he picks his napkin up from the table and wipes the liquid running down his chin.

"Just for that," Derek tells him. "I'm not telling you what we have for dessert."

"We have dessert?" Stiles practically yells, leaning forward on his seat and giving Derek his most pleading look. "What is it?"

"Not telling you."

"Please?"

"No."

"Derek?"

"_Stiles_."

"Ugh," Stiles huffs, and then smiles wickedly as he looks at Derek. "Is that because the dessert is _you_?"

"I don't put out on the first date," Derek tries to say casually, failing when Stiles notices the way his shoulder tense and the hand he has on top of the table closes into a fist.

"Hey. I'm not expecting you to," Stiles says, and when Derek doesn't relax completely he adds, "We can take this as slow as you'd like. Or as fast as you'd like. Whatever pace you're comfortable with, I'm comfortable with. I just want to spend time with you."

Derek looks up at him, then, swallowing hard before nodding stiffly back at Stiles.

Stiles bites down on his lower lip before getting up and coming to stand behind Derek, bending forward so he can get his arms around Derek's shoulder and rest his cheek against Derek's own.

"I like you," Stiles says, ignoring the way his heart speeds up as the words come pouring out of his mouth. "And I am attracted to you. But that's not why I want to be with you. And, trust me, I want to be with you. Like, _all the time_. I want to get to know more about and your family and how you were as a kid and if you hate watermelon as much as I do. And I want to be with _you_ because I like the kind of person you've shown yourself to be these couple of months since we've met."

Derek's body loosens the more and more Stiles keeps talking, his hands coming up to curl around Stiles' wrist and keep him where he is.

"So what I'm trying to say is-" Stiles starts.

"This is not about sex for you," Derek finished for him, turning his head to the side so that his nose bumps against Stiles' cheek.

"Right," Stiles agrees, licking his lips and smiling a little at Derek, ignoring how close to each other they are. "Not the most important parts, anyway. I want to sleep with you, but only when you feel comfortable enough to let us do that."

"Okay," Derek says quietly, brushing his lips against Stiles'.

"Yeah?"

Derek nods, and then says, "And we have mint and chocolate ice cream for dessert."

"With sprinkles?" Stiles asks hopefully.

"The rainbow kind," Derek kisses him again, Stiles' hand coming up to cup his jaw, finger tracing the stubble on his skin.

"You're too good for me," Stiles sighs as he pulls back and lets Derek get up, helping him with the dishes as they walk back to the kitchen.

"I think you're okay," Derek says, placing the dirty plates on the sink and batting Stiles' hands away when he goes to turn on the water. "Leave it. I have a deal with Cora."

"Your little sister?"

"I'm letting her and Isaac say over at my place until they find one of their own," Derek explains.

"That's nice of you."

"In exchange, she has to do everything I ask," Derek continues. "In this case: _dishes_."

"You're a _mean big brother_," Stiles states, sounding all kinds of surprised.

"I'm wonderful," Derek deadpans, opening the freezer and taking a pint of ice cream and a bag of sprinkles.

"Oh, baby, you so are," Stiles coos making grabby hands until Derek hands him the ice cream and goes in search for spoons.

Stiles can't help but moan at the first taste of mint and chocolate and rainbow sprinkled goodness against his tongue, going as far as closing his eyes and tilting his head back in ecstasy.

And then opening them up again when he hears Derek's sharp intake of breath, his eyes glued to Stiles mouth as Stiles licks the ice cream gathered at the corner of his lips.

He leans in and locks their lips together, his cold against Derek's warm ones, letting Derek suck his tongue into his mouth and taste the sweet and fresh flavor of mint.

They spend the rest of their date like that, quietly eating together, stopping only so they can make out or have tiny fights over who gets to eat what spot on the ice cream.

Stiles likes the middle, Derek letting him have it so he can trace the edges and slowly eat his way in.

They don't say anything as Derek locks up, Stiles with an arm around Derek's waist and Derek with his thrown over Stiles' shoulder, keeping him close.

They walk together like that until they reach the bike, Derek leaning back against it and pulling Stiles over to him by his belt loops.

"I think we've done this before," Stiles muses out loud, laughing when Derek tries to kiss his smile off his face.

"And I think I remember you saying you didn't think you'd ever be done with this," Derek says back, nuzzling against the juncture of Stiles' neck and shoulder.

"You're correct," Stiles tilts his head to the side to give him better access.

"So you won't mind if we keep doing this for a little while longer," Derek mutters against his skin, placing tiny kisses all the way up Stiles' neck until he reaches his cheek.

"Nope," Stiles says, patiently waiting for Derek to get to his lips and kiss him again.

"Good."

And then he doesn't have to wait anymore.

* * *

Stiles stares at himself in the mirror as he gets home, takes in the his red and swollen lips from kissing, the way his hair is matted across his forehead from wearing a helmet, the stubble burn against his neck and chin and cheeks and collarbones, and the quickly darkening hickey placed just above the collar of his shirt.

He looks _wrecked_ and absolutely one hundred percent completely blissed out.

He takes off his clothes as he walks to his bathroom, not paying attention to anything but the fact that he and Derek are_ together_ now.

That they went out on their first date and made out and ate spaghetti together and had the best night of Stiles' _life_.

And that as Derek parked in front of his building and took off his helmet to kiss him goodnight, he murmured "Night, Bunny," against Stiles' lips and didn't even bat an eyelash when Stiles said, "Night, baby," back.

And now Stiles flops down on top of his bed in only his boxers and grabs his phone from where its placed on the nightstand, face split in a grin as he types out a text.

**To: Derek**

_hey derek, guess what_

It takes about fifteen minutes for him to get an answer, time he spends staring at the ceiling, silly smile on his face, reliving everything that just happened tonight.

**From: Derek**

_What?_

**To: Derek**

_i think i have a boyfriend now_

Stiles licks his lips, heart beating fast as he waits for Derek to respond.

Because as amazing as tonight was, and as much as they both admitted that they want to be together, there was no talk about whether they were going to start thinking of the other as being their _boyfriend_.

Which is something Stiles _really fucking wants_.

To introduce Derek to his friends and family and_ the entire world_ as _his boyfriend_.

And that's why his heart almost leaps out of his chest when his phone buzzes in his hand.

**From: Derek**

_Only think?_

Stiles giggles.

He's not proud of it, but he does.

He buries his face against his pillow and fucking _giggles_, thinking he's about to burst from all the joy he's feeling at that.

**To: Derek**

_okay i know i have_

**To: Derek**

_and he's great_

**To: Derek**

_and i really like him_

Is what Stiles sends when he's gotten a hold of himself, sitting up indian style on the bed as he waits for Derek.

**From: Derek**

_I think he really likes you, too._

**To: Derek**

_only think?_

**From: Derek**

_Know._

And the giggles are back, Stiles having no control over himself as he types out a _3_ and hits send, flopping back down on his bed and laughing out loud in the quiet of his room.

Because tonight was the best night_ ever_, and nothing will ever make Stiles feel as good as he's feeling right at this moment.

And then his phone buzzes again.

**From: Derek**

_3_

Stiles suspects that if people can die from feeling too happy, he'd be dead by now.

So he closes his eyes and tries to will himself to calm down, the memory of Derek' lips against his own, tasting wine and sauce and _Derek_, the ghost of a smile firmly attached to his flushed face flashing across his mind.

Seriously, best first date _ever_.


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n**: RATING WENT UP because of a descriptive fantasy stiles has of him and derek together. but not because of real sexy times just yet, sorry :(

* * *

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Did you really just order that?"

"I like it."

"You- You _like_ it? Derek, that's just- I don't. _Are you serious_?"

"For the last time, Stiles, _yes, I am serious_."

"I don't think I can be with you anymore," Stiles shakes his head, mock outrage written all over his face. "This is a deal breaker. I can never date anyone who orders a _vanilla milkshake_ with his burger."

"Says the guy who asked for a portion of curly fries," Derek says dryly. "_With_ another portion of curly fries."

"Curly fries are a gift from the fucking gods," Stiles sniffs, reaching a hand and letting it rest over Derek's. "It's not your fault you can't understand our love."

Derek snorts at that, eyes soft and fond as he slides his fingers through Stiles', squeezing his hand once before letting go.

"And it's not my fault you can't appreciate the wonders of vanilla milkshakes," Derek says back, leaning against his side of the booth.

"Nothing about anything _vanilla_ is _wonderful_," Stiles makes a face at him.

"I'm not going to argue with you about this."

"That's because you know I'll win."

Derek just shakes his head at him, lips tugging up slightly.

"And speaking of winning," Stiles says, resting his chin on his hand. "How's Boyd?"

"He's good," Derek gives him a smile, a _real_ smile. "He's still having some trouble with picking up pens, but he's got a good grip on his bike's handlebars."

Stiles rolls his eyes at him, smiling fondly at Derek.

"You're family's obsession with bikes is weird," Stiles tells him, and then gasps, eyes glinting in amusement, "Are you guys in a biker club? Is that it? Is the garage just a front for your nefarious business of selling guns and dope to the innocent kids of Beacon Hills?"

"You caught us," Derek deadpans. "I guess I'll have to kill you now."

"Kill me with kindness, you mean," Stiles bats his lashes at him. "Since the only reason you even brought me here was because you knew how much I love crappy diner food."

"Your love for _takeout services_ is something I don't understand," Derek says. "Taking you out to dinner is the least I can do. I like you, I don't want you to have to eat things out of boxes seven times a week."

"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," Stiles breathes out, and then explains himself, "You know I can't really cook. And with my hours at the firehouse it's easier to just order something instead of, you know, _trying to learn how to cook_."

"I could teach you," Derek shrugs one shoulder, staring down at his hands on top of the table.

"I-," Stiles blinks, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from squealing when he sees the faint blush of Derek's cheek. "You'd do that?"

"Yeah, if-," Derek clears his throat, shifting in his seat a little before looking up shyly at Stiles. "If you wanted to, I could. Yeah."

"I'd like that," Stiles says softly, offering Derek a sweet smile. "I'd really like that. But I have to tell, it wouldn't be easy."

"I know," Derek nods, lips twitching. "I remember you telling me about your lack of skills in the kitchen."

"Well, I'll have you know my skills lie elsewhere," Stiles shoots back. "And by that I mean _in a bed_."

Derek's face does that complicated thing where it doesn't know if it wants to laugh at Stiles or scowl at Stiles, so it settles for going beetroot red and not meeting Stiles' gaze.

And then their waitress clears her throat and sets down two plates of food, one in front of Derek and one in front of Stiles.

"Enjoy your food, boys."

If Derek throws a fry at his head as his blush deepens and Stiles catches it with his mouth and moans out a "Yummy" just to see Derek get even redder, no one needs to know.

* * *

"Stilinski, your boyfriend's here!"

Stiles can't help the smile that breaks across his face as he waves goodbye to Danny, Jackson, and Scott and runs out of the firehouse.

Derek has his helmet off and his phone in hand, brows furrowed as he taps something on it before putting it back in his pocket.

"Everything okay?" Stiles asks as he gets closer, getting a hand on the back of Derek's neck and pulling him into a quick kiss.

"Do you mind if we stop by the garage before heading out?" Derek asks him, voice low and hesitant.

"Not at all," Stiles shakes his head, and then asks again, "Is everything okay?"

"Erica called saying there's some kind of problem with one of the customers," Derek sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I have to go check it out."

"Alright," Stiles nods. "Let's go, then."

"You don't have to come with," Derek tries, shoulders tensing and lips thinning like Stiles knows it happens when Derek's feeling uncomfortable. "I can drop you off at home and come pick you up when I'm done."

"Derek," Stiles says slowly, trying not to feel, you know, _hurt_. "Do you not want me to meet Erica and Isaac?"

Stiles doesn't mention Derek's uncle, mostly because he knows the guy is in New York on a business trip.

He wonders when he started cataloguing Derek's family member's whereabouts.

He realizes he doesn't really care.

"No. I- _No_," Derek huffs, rolling his shoulders. "I just don't want you to- It's just- Erica and Isaac are-"

"Overwhelming?" Stiles tries, biting down on his bottom lip as he tries not to find Derek the_ cutest person ever_ as he struggles with his words.

"Yes," Derek lets out a sigh of relief. "Yes, they are. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. And Erica and Isaac will try their hardest to do just _that_."

"I told you I wouldn't hold your friends' craziness over your head if you didn't hold mine," Stiles reminds him with a soft smile. "And trust me, there's really no one worse than _my friends_."

"You only say that because you haven't met them yet," Derek mumbles, scowling down at his helmet.

"I'm sure I'll love them," Stiles kisses his cheeks. "Because anyone good enough to be friends with you must be _awesome_."

"Thanks," Derek says dryly, but Stiles can see the little pleased smile playing on his lips.

"Anytime, baby," Stiles winks at him, extending a hand. "Now give me my helmet and let's go."

"As you wish," Derek sighs, trying to sound put out.

He fails when he kisses Stiles on the nose before sliding the spare helmet over his head.

As much as Stiles knows almost everything that goes down at the garage where Derek works, he's never been there himself. If he's being honest, he's a little excited about finally getting to see the place where Derek spends most of his days and hours, where he does what he loves.

He also has to admit that although he told Derek he's going to love his friends, he's nervous.

Because if they're anything like his group of people, then they're going to be judging to see if he's good enough the minute they lay eyes on him.

So that's why he takes his sweet time when Derek parks in front of an open, well, _garage_, eyes taking in the big open space, the two sleek black bikes parked beside Derek's, and the big shiny sign with the same design of Derek's mom's bar and-

"Did you guys seriously name your garage _Hale's Garage_?" Stiles asks as he stares up at the sign.

"That was not my idea," Derek says, sounding a little offended, and then a little sad. "My dad used to run it, with my Uncle only taking care of all the paperwork. The only name they could ever agree on was the family one, and after he..."

"You didn't want to change it," Stiles finishes when Derek trails off, coming up to him and wrapping his arms around Derek's waist, pulling him into a hug. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Derek mumbles against his neck in a way that tells Stiles that _it's not fine at all_.

He doesn't push, though, pulling back so he can peck Derek on the lips once, twice, three times before saying, "Okay, time to go. Because there's a blonde chick with grease stains on her overalls and the scariest smirk on her face staring at us from what I think is your office door."

Derek groans and drops his head against Stiles' shoulder, "Erica."

And like she can hear Derek's pain, Stiles sees the way her smile widens and she raises a hand to wave at them.

"How scared should I be?" Stiles whispers, never taking his eyes off her.

"Very scared," Derek gruffs back, taking Stiles' hand in his as they both make their way towards Erica.

"Just so you know," she says as soon as they're within ear shot. "As soon as Derek finishes dealing with _this_, I'm going to deal with _you_."

She grins wickedly and points a finger in Stiles' direction, cackling when Stiles visibly takes a step back and behind Derek.

"_Erica_," Derek hisses, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't you-"

"Don't even," Erica narrows her eyes at him. "Later we're going to have a conversation about how you're the worst best friend ever and how it should never take you this long to introduce me to your boyfriend."

"Right," Derek says, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because it should have _taken longer_."

Stiles looks from Derek to Erica and back again, feeling a little impressed at how they now seem to be in a staring match.

And a little bit giddy about having Erica call him Derek's _boyfriend_.

"Uhm, guys-," Stiles starts, only to be interrupted when the office doors burst open and a very flustered and very angry looking guy appears.

He does a double take when he sees Stiles standing behind Derek, eyes going to their hands still clasped together before focusing on Derek.

"Mr. Hale," he says through gritted teeth. "Why don't you step inside the office for a minute and _help me_."

Derek glares at the guy, who Stiles is pretty sure is Isaac, and then at Erica, and then turns to Stiles with the most apologetic look on his face Stiles' ever seen.

"Go on," Stiles says, letting go if his hand in favor of pushing at his shoulder. "Go do what you have to do. If I'm not here by the time you come back is because Erica ate me."

He hears a snort coming from Erica, Isaac's retreating footsteps, and a loud voice coming from the office, all the while never breaking his gaze from Derek's.

"You sure?" Derek asks, voice low. "You can still run."

"Like I'd ever leave you," Stiles rolls his eyes, ignoring the way his cheeks flush as he sees Erica smiling from the corner of his eye.

"Okay," Derek nods, clearing his throat. "I'll be right back."

"Good luck," Stiles says, and then leans in and brushes their lips together in a quick kiss. "I'll be here."

Derek nods once again before following after Isaac, closing the door behind him as he steps into the office.

"So," he hears Erica drawl out, snapping his attention back at her. "You're Stiles."

"Yep," Stiles confirms. "That's my na-"

Stiles stops abruptly, trying to spit out a mouthful of blond curls.

Because Erica is hugging him.

_Tight_.

Her arms are around his shoulders and her nails are biting against his shoulder blades and her cheek is pressed against the side of his neck and she's _hugging him_.

_Tighter_.

"I-," Stiles tries, raising an arm to pat Erica awkwardly on the back. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Erica says, sniffing a little.

"Uhm," Stiles mumbles, blinking rapidly.

Erica pulls back only long enough so she's able to stare at Stiles in the eye, her hands coming to rest over his shoulders as she smiles at him.

A wobbly smile, but an incredibly grateful one.

"You're the one who got Boyd to the hospital on time," Erica says, voice a little weak. "Thank you."

Stiles really thinks people should stop thanking him for just _doing his job_.

"You don't have to thank me," Stiles tells her as much.

"I want to," Erica says, squeezing his shoulders. "And not just because you made sure Boyd was okay, but also because you're the reason Derek is not that much of an asshole anymore."

Stiles frowns at that, "Derek was never an asshole."

"So you're saying he's more of a _dick_?" Erica asks, wicked gleam back in her eyes as she grins at him and lets her arms fall to her sides.

Oh, god," Stiles groans. "Not with the bad puns."

"Come on," Erica prompts. "You can tell me."

"I'm not telling you _anything_," Stiles says, staring at her with wide-eyes. "I don't even tell _my friends_ that sort of stuff."

"So there is stuff to tell," Erica wiggles her eyebrows at him.

Stiles presses his lips shut, because truth is, there isn't.

He and Derek haven't done much more than just make out whenever they see each other. Make out until their lips are swollen and red and spit slick and their breathing erratic and their dicks-

Well, at least Stiles knows _he's_ hard.

He's not so sure about Derek, because he can still feel some hesitance whenever Stiles makes a move to touch him below the waist.

So he tries not to.

He knows all about enthusiastic consent and taking his cues from body language and never doing anything if he's not absolutely one hundred percent sure the person he's with is on board with it.

His dad made sure of it.

Right after traumatizing him with a talk about safe sex and how his dad is not ready to be a grandfather for a long time yet and that just because there are only dicks involved it doesn't mean Stiles doesn't have to worry about catching any diseases.

Stiles was fourteen.

He still cringes whenever someone says the word 'sausage' anywhere near him.

"I don't even know you," Stiles tells her, even if that feels a little bit like a lie.

Erica calls him on it, "Derek's mentioned me. I know he did. And not just me, but Isaac and Boyd and the rest of his family, too. There's no way he texts you as much as he does without telling you everything that happens in his life."

Stiles opens and closes his mouth at that, because Erica is right.

But still.

"That still doesn't mean you get to know anything about our sex life," Stiles says, trying not to flinch when she narrows her eyes at him. "Or lack thereof."

Erica purses her lips together but doesn't say anything, staring at Stiles consideringly.

"Okay, you don't have to tell me anything," Erica says, and Stiles lets out a sigh of relief. That is until she adds, "But if you ever hurt him, I'll make your death look like an accident."

"My dad's the Sheriff," Stiles feels like he need to point out.

"And I'm a mechanic," Erica says, flipping her head over her shoulders.

"That doesn't make any sense," Stiles shakes his head at her.

"Doesn't it?" Erica tilts her head to the side, grinning.

"I'm not sure I like you."

"I think we'll get along _great_," Erica pats him on the cheek.

Before either of them can say anything the office door burst open and Derek and Isaac step out, and if looks could kill someone, Stiles is pretty sure that the guy who follows after them would already be lying dead on the ground.

"I'm sorry for the trouble, Mr. Daehler," Derek says, and Stiles can see a muscle ticking in his jaw.

"You should be," the guy sneers. "And don't think I'll be coming back here again."

He turns his back to Derek and Isaac and walks out of the garage, bumping hard against Stiles' shoulder when he passes him.

"Fucking asshole," Isaac mutters under his breath, eyes glued to the guy's back as his hands clench and unclench into fists.

"You okay?" Derek asks him, stopping in front of him and eyeing the spot on his shoulder Stiles is rubbing.

"I'm fine," Stiles waves a hand in front of him. "What's his problem, though?"

"He scratched his car," Derek explains, a hard expression on his face.

"And then he came here accusing us of doing it," Isaac says quietly, lips pressed into a thin line.

"So then you have to pay for the damage?" Stiles asks, incredulous. "What a fucking dick."

"We know," Derek, Isaac, and Erica say in unison.

"At least he won't be coming back anymore," Erica says, walking up to Isaac and getting an arm around his waist. "And if he does, I can always hide fish under his car seats."

"Thank you," Isaac pats her on the head. "That's very sweet of you."

"You're welcome," Erica smiles sweetly at him, kissing him on the cheek before stepping back. "Well, I have to get back to work. Stiles, it was a _pleasure_ meeting you."

She winks at him before turning on her back and strutting back into the garage.

Stiles shakes his head at her, lips tugging up out of their own free will. It isn't until he looks back at Derek that he notices he has his eyes glued to Stiles', a frown on his face.

"What?"

"What did she tell you?"

"She asked me invasive questions about our relationship and I'm pretty sure she threatened to do something with my Jeep that'd result in, you know, _my ultimate demise_ if I ever hurt your feelings," Stiles tells him, letting one of his hands come rest over Derek's chest. "And she also said she's pretty sure we'll be the best of friends."

He hears an snort from Isaac at that, and when Stiles glances at him it's to see him smirking at both of them.

"I'm glad she already threatened you," Isaac's smirk widens into a grin when Derek's head snaps to him. "That means I don't have to do it."

"I've been thoroughly warned," Stiles nods seriously. "You don't have to worry about it."

Isaac nods at him before stepping forward and offering him a hand, "I'm Isaac, by the way."

"I figured," Stiles shakes his hand, smiling. "I'm Stiles."

"Yeah, Derek's mentioned you," Isaac drawls out, Stiles biting down on his bottom lip when he glances at Derek and sees the tips of his ears getting red. "Actually, last night he was just telling us about-."

"We're leaving," Derek says before Isaac can finish his sentence, grabbing Stiles by the hand and practically dragging him out of the garage.

"Bye, Isaac!" Stiles yells over his shoulder. "It was very nice meeting you!"

Derek doesn't stop until they're by his bike, shoving a helmet at Stiles' chest before putting on his own.

Or at least trying to, until Stiles gets a hand on top of his head and holds on to his hair.

"Stiles."

"Derek," Stiles says quietly, crowding him against the bike as he brings another hand up to cup Derek's cheek, thumb tracing the soft skin under his eye. "What the fuck?"

"Don't," Derek says, the flush on his ears running down his neck and chest and up until it reaches his cheek as he stares at the ground. "Just, don't."

Stiles blinks at him a couple of times before getting a finger under Derek's chin and forcing him to look up.

Not that Derek helps, with the way he keeps looking to a point over Stiles' shoulder and not actually his _eyes_.

"If you're worried about me being mad that you talk to your friends about us, I'm not," Stiles says, still keeping his voice low and gentle. "I like that you do it. It means I'm a part of your life you want to share with the people you care about, and that's a good thing. Now if you're angry because you think Isaac violated your bro code by telling me you talk to him about me, then you need to speak to him instead of taking it out on me."

"Bro code?" Derek snorts, looking up at Stiles for a second before looking down again.

"Bro code," Stiles nods seriously. "It's an important code between bros that you must never ever break, otherwise you'll suffer horrific consequences chosen by the bro you share the code with that'll insure maximum pain and humiliation for you until they feel like you've redeemed yourself enough to be their bro again."

"Nothing that just came out of your mouth made any sense," Derek states, sounding a little awed.

"You only say that because you've never had to walk around town shirtless with a Care Bear drawn to your chest just to get your friend to speak to you again."

Derek shakes his head a little at Stiles, his shoulders relaxing as he lets his head drop forward unto Stiles' chest.

Stiles lets go of the hold he has on Derek's hair in favor of carding his fingers through it, hooking his chin on top of Derek's head and just enjoying the closeness, waiting for Derek to gather his thought and say what he has to say.

Because this is something Stiles has also learned about Derek.

He likes to think about what he wants to say before he does, to make sure he's making his point clear and that everyone understands what he means and what he wants.

Stiles wonders if he's always been like this, or if something - or someone - made him like this.

"I'm sorry," Derek mumbles, rubbing his nose against Stiles' shirt. "I don't really introduce people to my friends."

Stiles blinks at that, a little startled.

"By _people_ you mean what?"

"People I care about."

"And when you say you don't really introduce them you mean what?"

"I mean never have before," Derek explains, and Stiles is glad he has his face buried against his chest so he won't see Stiles gaping. "Not really."

"So what you're saying is," Stiles licks his lips, trying to understand. "Is that you never introduced people you care about to your friends."

"Yes."

"Because you're scared they'll scare the person off?" Stiles tries.

Derek doesn't say anything.

"Or because you've never really cared about anyone before to go through the trouble of doing it?"

Derek still doesn't say anything, and Stiles wonders if Derek can feel the rapid beat of his heart against his forehead.

"Or because you did and something happened?" Stiles asks, and then adds, "Something bad?"

Derek nods, just a minor movement to his head that Stiles doubts he would have noticed if it wasn't for the fact that Derek practically has his face glued to Stiles chest.

"There's a story there, isn't there?" Stiles whispers, pressing his lips against Derek's skull.

Derek nods again.

"Okay," Stiles says after a while, letting his hand rest against the back of Derek's neck and squeezing a little. "Okay. You don't have to tell me. Not until you're ready. Right now we can just get on the bike and ride around until you decide you want to stop. And even then you don't have to say anything. We don't have to say anything. There's no need for us to talk at all unless you want us to, alright? And even then we can talk about something else instead of this. Okay?"

Derek nods one final time, tilting his head up and closing his eyes, lips parted a little as if asking for a kiss.

Stiles happily obliges, leaning forward and pressing their lips together, slow and soft and gentle, and pulling back only to place a kiss on Derek's forehead before kissing him again.

Derek lets out a content sigh and opens up for him, letting Stiles lick past the seam of his lips and suck his tongue into his mouth.

They only break apart when they hear Erica's voice coming from inside the garage, yelling, "We don't pay you to kiss cute boys in front of your Uncle's garage, Derek!"

"You don't pay me anything, anyway!" Derek barks back, cheeks reddening.

"Alright, big guy," Stiles says, biting down on his lower lip and trying not to laugh at how _embarrassed_ Derek looks. He puts on his helmet and straddles the bike, arms coming around Derek's waist and fingers tapping against his stomach, "Let's go."

They ride for hours, Stiles pressed close to Derek, the streets of Beacon Hills passing them by until they reach the edges of the Preserve.

Derek stops there, taking his helmet off and turning around on the bike so his back is to the handlebars, hands on the back of Stiles' knees as he pulls him forward until Stiles' ass is cradled between Derek's legs.

And if Derek just presses their lips together instead of saying anything, well, it's not like Stiles is going to complain.

He's good at waiting.

And for Derek, he'd wait forever if he has to.

* * *

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Stiles asks as he opens the door to his apartment and lets Derek inside.

"I told you that's not how surprises work," Derek mumbles against his lips as he leans in for a quick kiss.

"And I told you it _could be_."

"But it's not," Derek says, giving him a blank stare when Stiles pouts at him.

"You're no fun," Stiles sighs, pushing Derek down on the couch. "Okay, just sit there looking pretty while I finish getting ready."

"Don't forget the sunscreen," Derek yells after him as Stiles makes his way to his bedroom to gather his things.

When he comes back to the living room is to find Derek watching tv with his feet up on his coffee table, a small and relaxed smile on his face appearing as soon as he sees Stiles staring at him.

"You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Stiles waves a hand in front of him. "Since, you know, I have _no idea_ where we're going."

Derek rolls his eyes at him and gets up, taking Stiles hand in his as Stiles locks up the apartment and leave.

They climb on Derek's bike and he rides off, Stiles trying to concentrate on his surroundings to see if he can figure out where they're going before Derek gets them there.

The only thing he can really tell is that Derek's taking them somewhere outside of Beacon Hills, making him more and more excited to see what he has planned as the minutes pass by.

It wasn't until an hour later that he got to see it, though, when Derek parked the bike around a stretch of land in what Stiles thinks is the middle of nowhere. The only reason he's not freaking out is because by Derek's bike there are about a hundred different ones, all parked neatly in a row.

Stiles slips off his helmet and looks around him with eyes wide and cheeks flush in excitement, beaming at Derek when he sees him grinning at him.

"Oh my god," Stiles breathes out, practically vibrating in place.

Derek shrugs one shoulder and shifts on his heels, running a hair through his hair as the tips of his ears start to flush, "You said you wanted to learn more about- What were your exact words again?"

"Your Hot Guy Leather Wearing Badass Looking Biker Community," Stiles tells him, giving him a sharp nod.

"Yes, that," Derek rolls his eyes at him before spreading his arms wide and gesturing around them. "So here we are."

Stiles has to bite down on his lip to keep down his squeal of excitement, settling instead for throwing his arms around Derek's shoulders and smacking a kiss on his lips.

If he gets more teeth than anything else because Derek is smiling at him, well, it's not like he cares.

"Show me bike stuff," Stiles says as he pulls back, grinning when Derek just throws an arm around his waist and says, "As you wish."

There are all kinds of stalls set up along the way, from selling gear to customized helmets to fry food to tattoos, people going from one to the other and back again as they made their way through the crowd. Right at the end there's a stage set up, speakers set alongside it and broadcasting the band playing up there.

Stiles' still grinning, eyes taking in everything around him, lingering in interest as he sees a couple walking by them, both of them covered in tattoos.

That seems like to be a theme here, you know, aside from all the leather.

"You don't have any tattoos," Stiles frowns at Derek, staring at his bare arms.

"Maybe you just haven't seen them yet," Derek raises both his eyebrows at him, eyes glinting in amusement as Stiles' mouth drops open and his eyes glaze a little.

Because that's most definitely a real possibility.

That Derek has a tattoo and Stiles still hasn't seen it.

Mostly because he hasn't seen Derek naked yet.

Or just without his pants.

Or a shirt.

Actually, the only parts of Derek that Stiles has seen without cloth covering it are his arms, hands, neck, and face, and he's feeling a little bit robbed right now.

"I'm feeling a little bit deprived right now," Stiles says quietly, pressing his lips together as he rakes his eyes up and down Derek's body. "Can you tell me what it is?"

"No."

"Can you tell me _where_ it is?"

"Also no."

"Can you tell me why you're _the worst boyfriend ever_?"

"Because you like it," Derek tells him, placing a kiss on the tip of Stiles' nose.

Stiles makes a face at him, because it's not like he can deny it.

Not like he even_ wants_ to deny it.

"You're the worst," Stiles grumbles, scowling.

"Does this mean you don't want me to win you a plush bear in Harley Davidson gear at the water gun game?"

"I'll win one myself," Stiles lifts his chin at him, eyes narrowed.

Derek's lips tug up at the determined look on Stiles' face as he grabs Derek's hand and leads them to the stall where said game is being offered, buying himself a ticket and grabbing a gun.

Not only does Stiles _win it_, but he walks back to Derek with a smug look on his face and shoves the bear right against Derek's chest.

"Here, baby," Stiles winks at him. "This one's for you."

And then promptly walks back to the booth so he can win one for himself.

When he walks back to Derek with his own toy - _a bunny_, thank you very much - on his arm, it's only to see him staring down at his biker bear with a look that's pure warmth and affection.

And embarrassment, if judging by the way his neck is flushed.

He gets a hand around the heated skin and presses a kiss to the corner of Derek's mouth, waiting until Derek turns his head to him so they can press their lips together in a soft kiss.

"Want to go check out the stage?" Stiles asks, settling comfortably by Derek's side as they resume walking.

Derek just gives him a shrug in response, every once in a while glancing back down at the hand that was holding his plush toy.

Stiles tries to keep his confusion at that from showing on his face, wondering if Derek keeps staring at it because he thinks it was a cute gesture, or because he can't believe Stiles would _make_ such a gesture, or because he's not _used_ to people doing things like that with him, _for him_.

He gets distracted from his worries when they start walking by a row of Harleys, all of different shapes and sizes, and Derek actually stops to talk to a few of the owners exposing their bikes and ask them question about maintenance work and cost and other things that honestly just make Stiles want to jump him.

Which is why, as soon as Derek bids on of the patrons goodbye, Stiles plasters himself to his side and leans in close to whisper, "You sound so sexy when you're talking bikes," against the shell of his ear.

Derek trips on his own feet, Stiles reaching out a hand and grabbing him by the back of his shirt before he can fall face down on the floor.

Derek glares at him, Stiles not paying any attention to that whatsoever as he presses his smile against the side of Derek's neck, his shoulder shaking with silent laughter.

"I should just leave you here," Derek mutters under his breath, lips curling up when Stiles gasps in mock-offence.

"You would _never_."

Derek rolls his eyes at him, grabbing his hand and entwining their fingers together, "Food?"

"Is awesome," Stiles nods, pretending not to know where Derek is going with this only so he can see Derek sigh dramatically at him.

It's one of Stiles favorite past times, actually, annoying Derek so much he gives him _the sigh_, complete with shoulder movements and his lips pressing together in a hard line.

"_Stiles_."

"Derek."

"Do you want to grab something to eat or should I just leave you to starve for the rest of the day?"

"You should never leave me to starve," Stiles tells him seriously. "Because your ass would be the first to go. I'm serious. I wouldn't even hesitate. I'd take a bite first and think about the consequences later."

"I don't know if I should be concerned about your mental health or take what just came out of your mouth as a compliment," Derek frowns at him.

"Take me to the stand selling hot dogs, is what you should do," Stiles pats him on the chest before pointing a finger to said stand.

Derek rolls his eyes at him, but still changes direction so they're walking towards the hot dog stand.

They get in line to buy their food, Derek playing with the fine hairs at the nape of Stiles neck while Stiles stares down at his bunny and makes a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat.

"What do you think I should name him?" Stiles asks, and then pointedly looks at Derek's bear. "What do you think we should name _them_?"

"I'm not naming it," Derek huffs.

"It's not an _it_," Stiles says, all mock offense. "It's a _him_. And he needs a name. Both of them do."

"How do you know it's a him?"

Stiles gives him his best _I'm not taking any of your shit today, Derek Hale_ look.

"He looks grumpy," Stiles explains, and then points a finger at Derek's face. "Just like you."

"We're not naming him Derek," Derek glares at him, proving Stiles' point.

"Of course not, that'll be-," Stiles cuts off, eyes going wide before his lips break into delighted smile.

"Oh god," Derek groans, and Stiles feels a little bit giddy at the way Derek obviously got that from him. "You thought of something, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And it's awful, isn't it?"

"It's _brilliant_, okay?" Stiles tells him, still smiling like an idiot.

"I'm not even going to ask," Derek eyes him warily.

"Good," Stiles pats him on the shoulder. "That way you won't object when I name him _Der Bear_."

It's Derek's turn to give him his most unimpressed stare, not that Stiles cares, not when he can see the way Derek's lips curl up in the ghost of a smile.

"Der Bear?"

"Yes," Stiles nods, and then looks down at him own toy and wiggles it in front of Derek's face. "You can name mine if you want to."

"Do I have to?"

Stiles purses his lips together, trying not to look a little hurt at Derek's disregard for their toys. "Yes, you have to."

Derek nods thoughtfully at him, staring down at the bunny in Stiles' hand as he considers, "Can I have some time to think about it?"

"Since not everybody can be a naming genius like me," Stiles sighs, trying to sound put out.

He fails when Derek pokes him in the ribs, making him yelp, before leaning in for a quick kiss.

Before Stiles can retaliate it's their turn to order, both of them asking for a complete BBQ chili hot dog and a Coke.

They're waiting for their food by the side of the line, Stiles eagerly watching as the hot dog is put together, when they hear a voice calling, "Derek?"

Stiles turns to see Isaac smiling at them, his arm thrown over the shoulder of a girl with long brown hair and the Hale trademark eyebrow raise.

That is currently aimed at Stiles and Derek's plush toys.

He feels Derek tense against him, and when he glances at him Derek is staring at the other couple with his best deer caught in the headlights expression.

When he makes no motion to introduce Stiles to them or even say anything, really, Stiles takes matters into his own hands, extending a hand forward and putting on his biggest smile as he shakes Isaac's hand, "Hi, Isaac."

"Hey, Stiles," Isaac smirks at him, eyes going to the girl by his side who is eyeing Stiles up and down. "This is Cora, my girlfriend."

"And Derek's sister," Cora adds, grinning at him and tilting her chin up in acknowledgement.

"It's very nice meeting you," Stiles tells her. "Derek's told me a lot about you."

_And about your sex life_, Stiles wants to say.

He settles for resting a hand under the small of Derek's back and hoping to ease some tension from his body.

Not that it works that much.

Not when Cora says, "I think it's only fair since he can never shut up about _you_."

Derek's body locks up tight at that, eyes narrowing into slits as he stares at his younger sister and grunts, "Cora."

"Derek," Cora smiles sweetly at him. "So nice of you to join in on the conversation."

Derek's lips curl downward as he continues to glare at his sister, Stiles looking from Derek to her and back again.

He has no idea what's happening here, only that he's starting to feel slightly uncomfortable by Derek's reluctance to do anything other than scowl at his younger sister.

Anything like, let's say, _actually introduce Stiles, his boyfriend, to her_.

"Well," Stiles drawls out, deciding that staring at Isaac might be his safest bet. "Are you guys having fun?"

"Yeah," Isaac says, like it's not big deal that his girlfriend and her brother are currently in a staring match that involves a lot of eyebrow and lip twitching. "We were just going to grab something to eat before heading home."

And maybe it isn't.

Maybe Cora and Derek do this all the time.

But it still doesn't change the fact that this is the first time Stiles has ever met her, and Derek didn't even go through the trouble of making Stiles feel like bumping into one of his family members is no big deal.

"The hot dogs look good," Stiles suggest, still painfully aware Derek hasn't said anything since Isaac and Cora saw them.

Aside from uncomfortable, Stiles is also starting to feel a little hurt, a little bit like Derek doesn't want him to be near his friends and family.

And Stiles remembers the conversation they had when Derek took them for a ride after being called in to the garage when Stiles was with him. He remembers how Derek nodded when Stiles asked if the reason why he was so hesitant to mix a romantic relationship with the relationship he had with his family was because something bad had happened before they got together.

Still, the ice cold feeling Stiles gets at the bottom of his stomach the few times Derek has done this doesn't sit well with him.

But he knows now is not the time to talk to Derek about any of this, and he also knows that even though he wants some kind of explanation, he might not get it. Because as much as Derek has opened up to him since they met, he still has trouble talking about, well, _feelings_.

Which Stiles thinks it's a really weird thing about him, considering how much of what he feels always shows on his face.

And then he remembers Mrs. Hale's words from that day in the ambulance, that Derek is more of a man of action.

And then he feels even worse about all of this, because Derek's actions right now are showing that he wants to be anywhere other than _here_, with Stiles and his sister and one of his closest friends.

It's right then that Derek and Stiles' order gets called, Derek grabbing their food with a muttered thank you and Stiles going for their sodas and licking his lips at the smell of chili in the air.

Stiles turns to Isaac and Cora to ask if they want them to share a table with both of them, but before he can say anything Derek butts in and says, "We should probably get going."

He does it anyway, though, Derek's anti-social tendencies be dammed.

"Do you guys want us to save a seat for you?" Stiles grins at the other couple, ignoring the death glare Derek sends his way.

"That's okay," Cora shakes his head at him, not bothering to look back at her brother. "We'll probably walk around some more while we're eating."

"You sure?"

"Positive," Isaac answers, nodding at him.

"Okay, then," Stiles says lightly, rocking back on his heels. "Well, it was nice seeing you. And meeting you, Cora."

"You too," they say in unison, Isaac giving him a nod and Cora a smile before they resume walking around.

If Stiles thought meeting Derek's mother while having to take care of an injured Boyd was awkward, that has nothing on what he's feeling right now.

So he turns around and makes his way to the plastic tables set up near the booths, ignoring Derek's presence as he trails behind him.

He sits down and places one of the soda cans in front of him, making grabby hands for his hotdog as Derek settles in across from him on the table.

"Stiles," Derek starts, only to have Stiles take a huge bite out of his hot dog and pretend he didn't hear anything.

Stiles moans around his mouthful of food, wiping the chili gathered at the corner of his mouth with a thumb before sucking it clean and saying, "Yummy."

"Bunny," Derek tries again, leaning forward on his seat and lowering his voice. "I'm sorry."

Stiles purses his lips together, because t_hat's not fucking fair_.

"What are you sorry about?" Stiles asks him, pressing his lips together as he waits for Derek's answer.

Derek opens and closes his mouth a few times before sighing and as staring at Stiles with a lost look on his face.

Derek has them a lot, those lost looks.

Almost always after he apologizes, as if he's sure he's done something wrong but can't quite figure out what it is.

Which, right now? So not the case.

"I shouldn't have acted like that," Derek says, finally founding his words.

"You really shouldn't," Stiles agrees, and then adds, "It was rude to Isaac and your sister and uncomfortable and embarrassing to the rest of us."

"I'm sorry. It's just- You know it's hard for me to-," Derek scrubs a hand over his face, taking his time to think about what he wants to say before staring straight at Stiles and doing it "I'm used to keeping people away from them. I've been doing it for _years_ and it's second nature to me by now. I'm not doing it because I'm ashamed of you or because I don't like you or because I don't think you're good enough for me. I'm doing it because that's- that's-"

"That's what you do," Stiles finishes for him, not knowing if he should be feeling extremely pissed or extremely sad right now.

"Yes," Derek breathes out. "And it's going to take me a while before I can't break out of it. Before it's not something I do anymore, just something I _did_."

Stiles doesn't say anything for a while, taking another bite of his hot dog as he thinks about what Derek just said.

Or rather, what must have happened to Derek to make him say something like that in the first place.

It's about three minutes later filled with a lot of intense staring from Derek that Stiles nods his head and offers him a warm smile, "Okay."

"Okay?" Derek asks him, expression equal parts relieved and surprised.

"Yes," Stiles states firmly. "I know there's a reason why you did what you did, but I also know our relationship is new and it's going to take us awhile before we feel comfortable sharing certain parts of ourselves with each other. I feel like this is a part of you that's related to a much bigger one that you still don't want me to know or know how to tell me, so I'm going to respect that. But I still have to let you know that I didn't like the way it felt when Isaac and Cora came to talk to us and you didn't even make an effort to talk to them or introduce me to your sister, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't do it again," Stiles gives him a pointed look at that, and then adds, "Now, if in the future we find ourselves in a similar situation where you feel like you need to get away from your family, _talk to me_. Talk to me instead of shutting down or walking away or dragging _me_ away."

Derek stares at him some more before giving him a stiff nod and saying, "Okay."

"Good," Stiles smiles brightly at him, feeling a little bit better about this whole thing. "Now eat your hot dog."

They eat in silence for a while, staring down at the crowd of people walking around, the bikes, the lights on the stage, just basking in the summer sun and each other's company.

Stiles doesn't even notice the way Derek keeps looking at his bunny until he blurts out, "Bunny Yummy."

"Waaaa?" Stiles asks as he turns to him, mouth full.

"Your bunny," Derek points at the plush toy. "That's what I'm calling it."

Stiles grabs his soda and takes a big gulp to wash down his hot dog, licking his lips before as he blinks at Derek, "Bunny Yummy?"

"Yes."

"Bunny Yummy?"

"Again, yes."

"Oh my _god_."

"What's wrong with Bunny Yummy?" Derek frowns at him, lips pressed in a thin line.

"Nothing," Stiles says quickly, shaking his head and trying to bite down a smile. "Nothing at all. Aside from the fact that hearing you say the words _Bunny Yummy_ is about the cutest thing I've ever seen."

Derek's jaw clenches as he stares down at his own food, frown still present as he huffs out a, "Shut up."

"Hey," Stiles says softly, hugging his bunny tightly to his chest with his free hand. "I like it. No, scratch that, _I love it_, actually. I'll never call this bunny anything other than Bunny Yummy from this day forward. Or maybe just Yummy, for short."

Derek looks back up at him from under his lashes and offers him a small smile, which Stiles returns, before pointing at Stiles' hot dog and saying, "If you don't finish this soon we'll miss the final show."

"I doubt not getting to see a Steppenwolf cover band will ruin my day," Stiles rolls his eyes at him, but going back to eating anyway.

"But it's so cool when everyone sings Born To Be Wild together," Derek says in his most dry tone, face completely blank.

And three hours later, after the sun goes down and the spotlights are on and the people are singing and Derek pulls him into a BBQ chili flavored kiss, Stiles can't help but agree.

* * *

"How did you manage to talk me into this?"

Derek doesn't even bother looking back at him, just keeps on walking forward.

"Oh, right. There was no _talking_. There was only _kissing_. And next thing I know I'm dying of dehydration in the middle of the fucking _woods_."

A bottle of water flies at him at that, followed by Derek's exasperated voice saying, "You're not dying."

"But I am," Stiles whines, flopping down on the ground in front of a tree and leaning back against it. "You'll have to go on without me. Tell my father and Scott I've loved them with all my heart and that _no_, Scott absolutely _cannot_ have my Xbox. That goes to Danny."

Derek lets out a snort and sits down beside him, shaking his head when Stiles grabs hold of his arm and hooks it over his shoulder, wiggling in place until he can lean back against Derek's chest instead of the tree trunk.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Stiles sighs, patting Derek in the knee.

"You're a paramedic," Derek says, breath ghosting over the top of Stiles' head. "Aren't you supposed to be in shape?"

"I am!" Stiles protests, slapping Derek on the thigh. "I'm in shape for _running into buildings_ and _up flights of stairs_ and helping carry men _twice my size_ to my ambulance."

"But not walking around in the woods," Derek fills in.

"Not walking around in the woods."

"Then why did you agree to go hiking?" Derek asks, lying his hand flat against Stiles' chest.

"Because you were kissing me!" Stiles turns around, gaping at Derek like the answer should be obvious. "I can't think straight when you have your tongue down my throat."

"Oh, really?" Derek smirks at him, eyes crinkling at the corners.

He looks fucking _gorgeous_ and Stiles is so fucking lucky to be the one Derek shares those smiles with.

"Yes, really," Stiles makes a face at him, lips curling up at the corners. "I think I would have agreed to cut off my own arm if you asked while you kept kissing me like that."

Derek makes a humming sound at the back of his throat, leaning in to mouth at Stiles' temple and whisper, "Good to know."

"Oh, god," Stiles groans, turning back heavily against Derek's chest. "You're totally going to use that to your advantage now, aren't you?"

"Yes," Derek nods, pressing a smile against the side of Stiles' head.

Stiles huffs, dropping his head against Derek's shoulder and looking up at the sky.

If he's being honest, today is probably the perfect day to go on an activity like this: the sky clear and the weather not too warm, a light breeze rattling the trees and ghosting over Stiles' sweaty skin.

The only problem is that Stiles is not used to walking around the woods for countless hours without taking a break.

Well, at least _not anymore_.

Not since he graduated high school and stopped coming around the Preserve so much.

"If you're too tired, we can go back to the house," Derek suggests, making Stiles frown.

"You mean ride back to my apartment."

"No," Derek says slowly, shifting in place so he can stare at Stiles in the face. "I mean walk to my old house. Where mom and Uncle Peter and Laura are living."

Stiles blinks again, still not understanding.

Because the only house in a walking distance from here are the old ruins.

The old _burned_ ruins.

Where a family used to live in until it caught fire due to faulty wiring and almost all of the residents _died_.

And that can't possibly mean what Stiles thinks it means.

Because if it _does_, that means those people were Derek's _family_, and Stiles doesn't know if he can deal with that information.

"Stiles?" Derek frowns down at him.

Derek's voice sounds very far away, muffled by the blood ringing in Stiles' ears as he tries to grasp what the fuck just happened.

"The house," Stiles croaks out, blinking repeatedly as he looks up at Derek. "_Your_ house."

Derek just frowns harder at him, hand coming up to cup the side of Stiles' neck, thumb pressing against his pulse point.

That little point of pressure helps ground him more than anything has so far, his eyes raking over Derek's worried features as he takes a deep breath and tries to tell him what he knows.

"I used to- There were-," Stiles shakes his head. "The _fire_. It was _your family_."

Understanding dawns on Derek, expression shutting down as he presses his finger down harder against Stiles' throat.

"I thought you knew," Derek rasps out.

"I didn't," Stiles says quietly, desperately. "I _didn't_. I was too little when it happened and when I met you I just. It never _clicked_. I never even thought about how you- that the last name was the same. I- _Derek_."

Derek shakes his head at him, lips pressing together as he looks out the trees, entire body tense as if waiting for something.

Stiles doesn't know what.

He's just glad Derek still hasn't made any moves to dislodge him from his place half-propped against Derek's chest, or to take his hand off his neck.

"We were out of town for one of Laura's swimming competitions," Derek tells him after what must have been around ten minutes - or ten _years_ - of sitting in silence with that knowledge floating around between them. "Me, Laura, Cora, mom and dad. We only heard about what happened when we got a call from the Sheriff's office, telling us maybe we should come home," Derek lets out a bitter laugh at that, voice going flat as he keeps going. "They didn't tell us something was wrong. We were all still young enough to be kept in the dark, and it wasn't until about the third day we were back here and staying at a hotel that they sat us down and told us we didn't have a house anymore. That we didn't have a family anymore."

Derek chokes out the last part, his voice cracking. Stiles turns so he's sitting sideways on the ground, getting a hand around Derek's waist and pulling him close as he rests his forehead against Derek's temple.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Stiles rasps out against Derek's cheek, Derek's hand falling from his neck to curl against the fabric of his shirt as he tugs Stiles' close.

"They were sleeping when the fire started in the basement. When they managed to wake up the first floor was already- They didn't even have a _chance_," Derek says, voice low and broken. "Uncle Peter was in the hospital for five months, with burns and trouble breathing. He was working late at the garage that day, and when he got to the house he tried to-"

"Hey," Stiles shushes him, rubbing circles over Derek's stomach with his hand. "We don't have to-"

"As soon as he got the okay to get out of the hospital," Derek interrupts him, as if now that he started telling Stiles about what happened, he can't stop. "We packed up our things and moved. All the way to the other side of the country. And we never looked back. Not until-"

Derek cuts off abruptly, and Stiles gets a sick feeling in his stomach that the heartache doesn't end there.

That there's more to the story that he's not going to like, more to the story that is bad and hurtful and sad.

He doesn't ask, though, not when Derek doesn't offer anything else, not when his body locks up as if trying to protect him from something.

Stiles just sits there quietly, curled up against Derek's side, his lips ghosting over Derek's jaw as he keep moving his hand up and down Derek's chest.

It takes him a long time before he starts feeling Derek relax against him, and even then he does it slowly, muscle by muscle, until his head falls back against the tree with a thud and he lets out a deep breath.

Stiles kisses him on the cheek, letting his hand stop when it passes over Derek's heart.

"I'm sorry," Derek gruffs, voice cracking a little. "I made things depressing."

Stiles gapes at him, sitting up and letting Derek's arm fall off his shoulder.

"Oh my god," Stiles says loudly when he sees the lost look on Derek's face. "I- _Derek._"

"I'm sorry," he says again, staring down at the his lap.

Stiles makes a choked-up noise in the back of his throat before cupping Derek's face in his hands and making him look up.

He doesn't like how Derek purposely avoids eye contact whenever he thinks Stiles is angry at him about something.

It leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth that something happened to Derek to make him slump on himself whenever he thinks he screwed things up.

"You don't have to be sorry," Stiles says firmly, staring at Derek straight in the eye, unblinking. "You _never_ have to be sorry when you're talking about your family to me, okay? I want to know about this stuff, and I want you to feel comfortable whenever you want to talk to me about them. And I know sometimes what you have to say will be _depressing_ and it'll hurt, but I still want to know. I still want you to share it with me, alright?"

Derek nods, swallowing hard before closing the distance between them and taking Stiles' lips in his. He keeps the kiss sweet, almost chaste, pulling back only after a couple of seconds.

"Still want to see the house?" Derek offers, staring at Stiles with such vulnerability and hesitant hope that all Stiles can do is nod back at him and whisper, "Yes."

The walk to where the house is located is not as long as Stiles thought it would be, something which he's grateful for. And Derek keeps pace with him, their hands clasped together, making sure to stop every other fifteen minutes or so for water breaks for Stiles.

When the house comes into view, Stiles can't help but gasp and stop right where he stands, staring at it with wide eyes and mouth open until Derek lets out a snort and tugs on his hand.

"Come on," Derek gives him a small smile. "You can stare at it later."

"It's just-," Stiles blinks at the house. "It's just-"

"Whole?" Derek tries, and Stiles has to say he likes how Derek seems to be able to joke about this when an hour ago he was telling Stiles about one of the worst moment in his life in this _house_. "Mom and Uncle Peter decided to renovate it when they got a letter from the county saying they were going to take it if we didn't do something about it."

"It's _beautiful_," Stiles says reverently.

Because it really is.

It's big and bright and, yes, _whole_, but it also looks _lived in_.

It looks cozy and warm and like it just wants to take you inside and feed you cookies and make all of your problems go away.

And Stiles knows how weird it is to be feeling like this about something as simple as a house, but he can't help it.

It feels like home away from home for him even though he's only ever known the ruins.

He doesn't tell Derek as much, though, just lets him drag him to the front door and inside the house as he yells, "Mom! You have guests!"

"You're not a guest!"

Derek rolls his eyes as he starts walking into the direction of the voice, Stiles' eyes too busy taking in the pictures and furniture and painted walls to pay attention to where they're going.

That is until they step into the biggest fucking kitchen he's ever seen and comes face to face with Derek's mom.

"Oh."

"Well," Mrs. Hale drawls, smiling at them. "Isn't this a surprise."

"I told you you had guests," Derek lets go of Stiles' hand in favor of walking up to his mom and kissing her on the cheek.

"Like Isaac tells me I have guests anytime he wants me to make him lemonade?" she raises an eyebrow at him.

"Isaac is not your kid."

"Please," Mrs. Hale snorts, and then turns her attention to Stiles. "It's nice seeing you again, Stiles."

"You too," Stiles says, trying to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat now that he knows what happened to them.

"I take it by the way your shirt looks like it's permanently stuck to you body is because Derek took you hiking?"

Stiles looks down at himself, his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to the middle of his chest.

"I think his plan was to _walk me to death_," Stiles glares at Derek, pointing a finger at himself.

Derek rolls his eyes at him.

"That sounds like him," she says, patting Derek on the cheek when he flushes under her gaze. "Now, why don't you give Stiles a tour of the upstairs bathroom and the spare clothes you left here while I fix you two something to eat?"

"Thanks, mom," Derek mumbles quietly, taking Stiles' hand again.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hale," Stiles throws over his shoulder as Derek pulls him out of the kitchen.

"You can call me Talia!" she tells after them.

"You know I've met your mom before, right?" Stiles asks when Derek doesn't stop dragging him through the house and up the staircase. "So there's no need for you to get me as far away from her as you possibly can."

"Sorry," Derek winces, slowing his step. "I just don't want you to stay in sweaty clothes."

"If you wanted me out of my shirt, all you had to do was ask," Stolea sighs, teasing.

"I'll keep that in mind," Derek deadpans.

Derek leads him down a hallway, stopping in front of a door at their left and opening it, ushering Stiles inside with a hand against the small of his back.

The room is almost bare with the exception of a bed posted in the middle of it and a dresser on the right far wall, a few knickknacks left on top of it and a hoodie dangling from one of the half opened drawers.

Derek doesn't let him linger, pushing him forward until they get to the bathroom, which is just as spacious as the bedroom they were just in.

Stiles whistles as he sees the number of showerheads in the big shower, turning to stare at Derek and wiggle his eyebrows.

"Nice digs," he says, grinning when Derek just makes a face at him.

"Laura has a thing for showers," Derek explains. "She says she wouldn't accept anything other than pure fucking spa goodness whenever she had to wash her hair."

"Your mom must have loved that."

"It was actually Uncle Peter who agreed on it," Derek says, and at Stiles' surprised stare he explains, "He's big on comfort."

Stiles nods.

He thinks if he was the one who had to spend five months in a hospital with burns on his body and having trouble breathing because he tries to save his family from certain death, he'd be big on comfortable things too.

"So who's bathroom is this?" Stiles asks, trying to stop any thoughts from the fire from roaming his mind. "Laura's?"

Not that he succeeded much.

Not now that he knew Derek's family was the one that suffered, the one that died.

His teenage obsession is looking a lot less like a safe heaven to him and a lot more like his worst kind of nightmare every second that passes.

Because when he was a kid, the house was nothing more than a reminder that there was someone out there who might have understood how he felt like when he lost his mom.

But now that he has _names_ and faces to go with it, it's turning into nothing more than bitter understanding that someone lost _their family_.

That their lives were turned upside down and ripped apart just like his when his mom died.

And even though he still feels some deep connection to the house like before, it's not as comforting as it used to be.

But it's also not as broken.

Because yes, something horrible happened here. But right now Mrs. Hale is making them sandwiches and there's light streaming through the open window into the bedroom and the shower stalls have a ridiculous number of heads because Laura wanted to.

What used to be the reminder of someone else's loss is now the proof that you can have something good again.

Something whole.

"No," Derek says, shifting in place a little before crossing his arms over his chest. "It was mine. Before I moved out."

"Oh," Stiles smiles slowly. "So that's why it looks like someone ransacked the place."

Derek huffs out a laugh, pointing a finger at one of the bathroom cabinets, "There are still some towels down there. I'll leave you a change of clothes on the bed. You can just leave your dirty ones on the hamper by the door and I'll pick them up to wash with mine after you're done."

Stiles purses his lips together, eyes following the direction Derek's finger is pointing before turning back to stare at him.

"Aren't you going to join me?" Stiles asks, voice low and a little rough as he leans into Derek's space.

"I- You- _Stiles_," Derek hisses, glancing at the door and back, the back of his neck reddening. "My _mother_ is downstairs."

"So?" Stiles bites down on his bottom lip, trying not to laugh when Derek just gapes at him.

"So?" Derek's says in a high-pitched indignant tone.

Stiles can't keep his lips from twitching up.

"Alright, alright," Stiles raises his hands up in surrender. "I'll go take my shower without you in it and wait for you downstairs with your mom if I finish showering first."

Derek takes one hard look at him before nodding stiffly, taking a step back until Stiles gets a hand on his shirt and tugs him forward again.

"I want kisses before you go," Stiles pouts, not waiting for Derek as he leans in and presses their lips together.

Whatever discomfort Derek might have felt at Stiles' advances vanishes as Stiles feels him melt against him, hand coming up to the side of Stiles' neck, thumb tracing the edge of his jaw as Derek opens up for Stiles and deepens the kiss.

And then he lets go of Stiles completely and gets out of the bathroom, the skin on the back of his neck and his ears still red.

"Thank you!" Stiles yells out after him, closing the door and locking it.

He takes a look at himself in the mirror, his flushed and sweaty skin, his hair matted against his forehead with sweat, his shirt wet and clinging to his torso.

Stiles wrinkles his nose as he pulls his shirt off and throws it on the hamper by the bathroom door, turning on the shower before stepping out of his shoes, pants, boxer briefs, and socks.

When he steps into the shower, the first splash of water running down his back is like heaven, Stiles groaning like he's never felt anything this good, ever. He just stands there for a minute or maybe _ten_, letting his muscles relax under the hot spray as he rolls his shoulders and trades his fingers through his hair.

It still takes him a little while to get moving and get to actually _washing himself_, his eyes raking over the few bottles still left in the bathroom in search for something he can use.

He grabs the one that reads 'bodywash' first, opens it, and immediately gets assaulted by the scent of _Derek_.

And now that Stiles is thinking about _Derek_, he's also thinking about how this is Derek's _bathroom_ where he used to _shower_ and maybe jerk off on a regular basis before he moved out.

He ignores the first twitch of interest from his dick as he starts lathering his body, ignores the second as he rinses, and ignores the third as he repeats.

By the time he gets to washing his hair with shampoo that _also_ smells like Derek, he's already fully hard and more than ready to do something about it.

Because now it sunk in that Derek used to be in this same space as Stiles is, _naked and wet_, it's like he can't think about anything else.

Nothing else but Derek's hard and muscled body glistening with water as his hands brush over his skin as he takes a shower.

Nothing else but the droplets of water running down his chest and stomach, his back, past his hips and the swell of his ass.

Nothing else but his head thrown back as he rinses his hair, pale neck exposed, water gathering at the hollow of his throat.

He has his fingers wrapped around his dick before he's even aware of what he's doing, not even bothering to feel guilty about doing this in Derek's _home_ while his_ mother_ is downstairs.

He's too busy thinking about what he'd do if Derek was here with him like he asked to care much about anything else other then getting himself off.

How he'd press close to him and catch droplets with his tongue, his lips warm against the wet skin of Derek's neck and collarbone.

How he'd press him up against the cold tiles and thumb and pinch at his nipples until they were red and Derek was shaking, canting his hips up looking for friction Stiles doesn't want to give him yet.

How he'd make Derek turn around and brace himself against the wall with his hands, legs spread wide, before he sunk down on his knees behind him and spread his cheeks apart.

How he'd tongue Derek open, eat him out until he was writhing and begging and pushing his ass back into Stiles' face.

And how he'd get him off just like that, with a hand on Derek cock and his tongue and a finger inside Derek's ass, Derek fucking into his fist as Stiles fucked him with his finger until he came with Stiles' name in his lips.

And how Stiles would finish off between his thighs, thrusting in between them and moaning whenever his cockhead bumped against the soft skin of Derek's balls.

But right now Stiles has to come by his own hand, those images of him and Derek swirling in his mind as he speeds up his movements and brings himself over the edge, spilling over his fingers and against the cold tiles of the shower.

He rests his forehead against the tiles as he catches his breath, washing off his come from the wall before turning off the shower and towelling himself dry and wrapping the towel around his waist.

He feels loose limbed and warm all over as he steps foot into Derek's bedroom again, spotting a bundle of clothes neatly folded on top of the bed.

He picks a shirt up and brings it to his nose, smelling the clean scent of detergent he associates with Derek before slipping it on.

There's also a pair of sweatpants that look like has seen better days, but no underwear.

Stiles gets this kind of giddy feeling as he pulls the pants up past his legs and ties the string at his hip as tight as he can - not that it does much, with the way it rides low as soon as he lets go of it.

Because these are Derek's _clothes_ and they're a little too big on him and his junk is touching Derek's sweatpants without the added layer of underwear between them.

He makes his way down the stairs with a smug smile on his face that's soon replaced by curiosity as he notices that there aren't any pictures on the walls here at the house.

At least not that he can see.

His mind flashes to his and Derek's first date night, the bar's wall so cluttered with frames that you almost couldn't see the exposed brick behind it.

He wonders if that's on purpose, if the reason they don't keep any pictures here is because of what they lost in the fire, because they're afraid something else like that might happen again and the memories of their family will be lost.

Stiles looks down sadly at his bare feet on the stair steps and continues to climb down, following the sounds of someone moving around the house and coming back to the kitchen.

"Oh, there you are," Talia smiles when she sees him, waving a hand at him. "Sit down."

Stiles pointedly does as she asks him to, hopping on one of the chairs by the kitchen table and resting his chin on his hand.

"Do you need any help?" Stiles asks when he sees her taking something off the oven.

"Not anymore," she shakes her head, placing a tray in front of him on the table.

The smells of chocolate chip cookies fills the air, Stiles' mouth watering as he stares down at the perfectly shaped cookies in front of him.

He reaches a hand to take one of them, only to have it slapped by Derek's mom.

"I swear to god, it's like you're all still children," Talia says, rolling her eyes. "You just saw me taking that out of the oven."

"But," Stiles eyes the cookies with longing. "_Cookies_."

"They'll still be there in fifteen minutes."

Stiles sighs, looking around the kitchen at a loss for what to say.

Mrs. Hale doesn't look as intimidating now as she did when Stiles first met her, but maybe that's because he's already had the freak out of his life about having to interact with her when he was in the ambulance.

So he grasps the one topic of conversation other than Derek they have in common and runs with it.

"How's the bar going?"

She looks a little surprised at his question, but soon she's pushing a chair and sitting down in front of him, eyes dancing with excitement as she starts telling him about how things are right on schedule, how they just got the last of the permits they needed to open the bar, and how she and Laura already started planning the opening party.

"You should come," Talia tells him, pushing the tray of cookies in Stiles' direction.

"Come where?" Derek asks as he enters the kitchen in a pair of light jeans and a tight black shirt, his hair damp.

Stiles stops with a hand halfway to the cookie tray in order to drool at the picture he makes, only stopping when Derek comes up beside him and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead before stealing a cookie for himself.

"To the bar opening," Stiles explains.

Derek's entire body freezes at that as he stands there in the middle of the kitchen with a half-chewed cookie in his mouth.

He starts chewing back slowly, eyes going from Stiles to his mom and back again.

Talia gives her son a hard look before getting up, offering Stiles a comforting tap on the shoulder before she steps out of the kitchen saying, "I'll leave you two alone so Derek can invite you himself."

Stiles waits until he can't see her anymore before turning to Derek, "Is this one of those times you think you're going to scare me off because your friends and family are overbearing? Or is this one of those times you're accidentally trying to push me away because that's a thing you do."

Derek swallows hard before flopping down on the chair vacated by his mom, fingers playing with the loose crumbs in the cookie tray as he mumbles out a, "A little bit of both."

"You know that with the exception of your Uncle Peter, I've met them all, right?" Stiles asks. "And that there's no way I'll let you get away with that now that I know it's a thing you do."

"Not at the same time and not for that long," Derek shakes his head at him. "And yes."

"Then how about," Stiles tries, gesturing wildly. "Then how about I invite _my friends_?"

Derek blinks at him, eyes going a little wide and mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of something to say.

"That way I'll have someone to _literally_ run to if I find that I can handle little doses of Hales but that everyone together at the same time is too much for me," Stiles explains, kind of excited but at the same time dreading the prospect of having his friends with him. "And that way _you_ will also have people to run to when you inevitably realize my friends are just a bunch of crazy people!"

The smile Stiles offers him is supposed to be reassuring, but he thinks it comes out a little bit hysterical instead.

Because as much of a good idea as it is to bring everyone to the bar opening and having them meet each other at once, it's also a phenomenally _bad worse terrible idea_.

Derek tells him that much.

Well, sort of.

"Maybe you shouldn't come."

Stiles' breath hitches.

He understands where Derek is coming from, but that doesn't mean it doesn't _hurt_.

Because they've talked about this, about how Derek should come to him and talk if he feels like there's something wrong.

And he knows Derek has some deep fear about mixing their relationship with the one he has with his family, but Stiles doesn't know _why_.

He meant when he said he wouldn't make Derek talk to him about anything he wasn't ready to, but that still doesn't give Derek an open excuse to be a dick to him. He doesn't get to treat him badly When Stiles has no idea what he's done or said that was wrong.

Because Stiles is _trying_ here, but a relationship is a two-way street and Derek needs to meet him halfway for them to work.

That's why Derek's words hit him like a punch in the gut.

Because it doesn't seem like Derek's trying.

At all.

It just seems like he's pushing Stiles away.

Again.

Something must have shown in his expression because Derek opens his mouth to say something, face going panicky and apologetic and worried.

Stiles just shakes his head at him and pushes his chair back, "Just drive me home."

"Stiles-"

"Please," Stiles says softly.

Derek snaps his mouth shut and gives him a curt nod, "Just let me put on my boots."

Stiles goes after his own shoes while Derek gathers his things, not even caring he's still wearing Derek's clothes and his are in the washer.

Derek's mom meets him when he steps into the living room, giving him a sad smile as she comes to stand in front of him.

"I told you once Derek's not good with words," she says, and Stiles has to press his lips together to tell her that _no fucking shit_ and_ this is none of your fucking business_. "He's also not good at letting people in. I don't know how much he's told you about our lives in New York-"

He didn't tell me anything," Stiles interrupts, letting out a bitter laugh.

"I'm sure he was just waiting for the right time," she tries to reassure him. "He's been hurt, my son. By someone he trusted. I won't say anything more because it's not my story to tell and I've already said too much, but that's why it's hard for him, to share some bits of himself with other people."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I think you're good for him," Talia offers him a kind smile. "And I think if there's anyone who can get Derek to open up and learn how to trust again, that person is you."

They hear Derek's footsteps coming down the stairs, Talia pulling him into a quick hug before saying, "You'll be fine," and disappearing into the direction of the kitchen.

Derek gives him a wary look when he sees him standing alone in the middle of the living room, but Stiles stops him with a, "Let's just go," before Derek can ask anything.

They only get to where Derek's bike is parked before Derek breaks and says, "We need to talk about this."

"You mean we need to talk about how sometimes it seems like you don't want me anywhere near your family for long periods of time?" Stiles snaps back at him, feeling instantly guilty when Derek flinches back. "Or how we've already had a conversation that looks a lot like this, but it seems like it went through one ear and out the other because you're _doing it again. _Pushing me_ away_."

"It's not like that," Derek tries, refusing to look at Stiles.

"Then how is it, Derek?" Stiles asks, hands clenching into fists by his side. "Tell me. Because I feel like I'm walking on eggshells whenever we meet someone close to you. I keep thinking I'm doing or saying something wrong that's making you get all closed off and shutting me out and I don't like it, okay? I don't like not knowing if I did something wrong or if I did something that makes you feel like you have to hide me away from your family and the people you care about, like I'm not-," Stiles swallows hard, voice coming out in a whisper, "Like I'm not someone important to you, too."

"_Stiles_," Derek takes a step forward, reaching out a hand as if thinking of touching Stiles but giving up halfway and letting it fall limply by his head. "That's not- I don't want you to think that. I don't ever want you to think that."

"Then explain it to me, because you can't keep giving me _nothing_ and expect me to just go along with it," Stiles throws his arms up, looking at Derek pleadingly. "I'm walking blind, here, Derek. And I don't like feeling guilty about something I'm sure has absolutely nothing to do with me. Now if I did something wrong, tell me so I can not do it in the future. And if you expect me not to fuck up, then you're gonna have to help me. And even then, I can't promise you that I won't do something along the way that'll piss you off. But I really really _really fucking like you_, and I want us to work, but for that you happen you have to want it, too."

"I want to," Derek croaks out. "I do."

"Then stop trying to push me away," Stiles' voice cracks, shoulder slumping on himself. "Let me in, let me get to know you, let me be_ there_ for you when you need me to."

"Stiles," Derek says, voice broken and hollow and so fucking desperate that Stiles doesn't even hesitate to take a step forward and rest their foreheads together, Derek's hands coming to grip at his hips. "I don't know _how_."

Stiles whines low in his throat, "_Derek._"

"I don't know how," Derek says again, holding on to Stiles as if he's the only thing keeping him here, keeping him whole. "I want to, but I don't-"

Stiles interrupts him before Derek can say it again, whispering against his lips that, "I'll teach you. If you let me. If you want me to. I'll do it."

"Yes," Derek says just as quietly. "I want you to. _Please_."

"I will, baby," Stiles promises him. "I will."

Derek chokes on a breath and tilts his head so his upper lip brushes against Stiles' lower one, opening his mouth when Stiles takes the hint and kisses him.

Stiles tries to put everything he has in that kiss, tries to show Derek how much he cares about him and how much he wants him and how much he wants _them_, together, for as long as Derek will have him.

Derek's nails are biting marks against the skin of his hip from over his shirt as he pulls Stiles roughly to him, arms going around Stiles' waist as he clings tightly to him as he kisses Stiles back just as desperately.

Stiles doesn't know how long they stay there, doesn't know when kisses turn into Derek pressing his face against the side of Stiles' neck as if hiding from the world, doesn't know when he starts trading his fingers through Derek's hair and whisper nothing in his ear until he feels Derek relax against him, little by little.

All he knows is that he doesn't like the way Derek pulls back, eyes trained to the ground as he says, "I'm sorry."

"I know," Stiles says tiredly, fingers tapping against Derek's temple until Derek looks up at him. "We'll be okay."

"Yeah?" Derek tries to give him a smile, failing when his lips curl down instead of up.

"Yeah," Stiles leans in and bumps their noses together. "Because now that I've got you, not even your ardent hate for words and your absolute disgust to talk about your feelings will be enough to make me let you go."

Derek snorts at that, expression a little less helpless as the tips of his ears flush red and he mumbles, "Good."

"I think so, too," Stiles offers him a small smile.

"Still want me to take you home?"

Stiles thinks about that.

As much as he wants to go back inside the house and eat more cookies while possibly cuddling with Derek on the couch, he feels like he needs some time to think.

About their relationship and Derek's reluctance to introduce Stiles into the circle of his family and the reason why he always seem to avoid any type of confrontation.

So he takes a deep breath and says, "Yes, I do."

Derek doesn't seem that surprised by his answer, if a little bit sad. He just nods and grabs the helmets from the handlebars, straddling the bike and waiting for Stiles to climb up behind him.

Stiles makes sure to hold on extra tight to Derek while he drives him back to Stiles' apartment, bottling up the feeling of Derek's back resting against his chest.

It also takes him a little longer to move when Derek finally parks in front of his building, and even then he just stands in front of Derek and by the bike instead of getting inside.

"Yes?" Derek asks hesitantly after when Stiles doesn't say anything, just stares at him.

Stiles bites down on his bottom lip, licking it over the swollen flesh before he says, "We just had our first big fight."

Derek blinks at him, jaw going a little big slack as he stares at Stiles like he's grown a second head.

"We just had our first big fight," Stiles says again, a little louder. "And I don't even know if we solved anything or not. Because even though it feels like we're okay, I don't know if we really are okay. In fact, it actually feels a little bit like we're not okay because I still don't know what I did wrong and why you don't want me to be at the bar opening."

"I want you," Derek says, playing with the hem of his shirt as his eyes dart to the floor. "There. At the opening, I mean. I just- I don't- There's still-"

"Yeah?" Stiles swallows hard, rocking back on his heels, hands deep in his pockets so he won't reach out and pull Derek in and kiss the hell out of him.

Because this is Derek _trying_, in his own choked-up _I don't really know how to use words_ kind of way.

"There's still a lot you don't know," Derek says, licking his lips. "A lot I haven't told you yet. That I want to. I just don't- I just don't really know how to-"

"How to do it?" Stiles offers, heart breaking a little at having Derek saying the words _I don't know how_ again.

"Yeah," Derek says, clears his throat, looks back up at Stiles, face soft and hopeful and all kinds of embarrassed. "But I'd like that. If you were there. With me."

"Okay," Stiles breathes out, nodding. "Okay. I will. Be there. With you."

"And maybe," Derek says, shrugging one shoulder and failing _miserably_ at trying to appear casual. "Maybe I could tell you. Some things. If you'd like me to."

"I always want to know more about you, Derek," Stiles says softly. "Hell, I want to know _everything_ about you."

Derek presses his lips together and nods at Stiles before saying, "I'll- I'll try. I just don't-," he sighs. "I'm not good at this. So you'll have to be patient with me because it might take a while for me to get it all out. And some of it..."

Derek trails of, shaking his head.

"Some of it?"

"Some of it isn't good," Derek finishes off in a breath, shoulders that were tense slumping forward as if the mere action of admitting that is enough to take a little bit of the weight he carries off of him.

"I'll still be here," Stiles promises. "No matter how bad it is."

"You can't promise me that."

"I don't have to," it's Stiles turns to shake his head. "I _know_ _it_."

Derek huffs, shifting on the bike and avoiding eye contact.

That is until Stiles grabs him by the chin and makes him look back up at him as he states, "I _know it_, Derek. I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to."

Derek stares at him unflinching, as if looking for something as his eyes rake over Stiles' face.

Whatever it is, it seems like he's found it when his lips twitch into a smile, entire face softening as breathes out a, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Stiles smiles back. "Definitely."

"Good."

"Great."

Derek lets out a faint chuckle at that, snatching a hand forward and curling his fingers around Stiles' - _Derek's_ - shirt and pulling him to him and into a kiss.

"I'll see you later, Bunny?" Derek murmurs against his lips, eyes crinkling at the corner as he stares at Stiles.

"Always, baby," Stiles grins at him, taking a step back and watching as Derek slips his helmet back on.

He waves at Stiles before he takes off, and if Stiles stands right where he is feeling equal parts happy and sad until he starts shivering from the cold, well, no one's there to see it.


	5. Chapter 5

**a/n:** hi everyone! so this chapter is a little on the heavy side, and i figured i should warn you about some things.

it deals with **past emotional/psychological abuse** and **past emotional manipulation**. i'm making another author's note at the end of the chapter so you can check that out if you need more details about it before you start reading.

* * *

Stiles and Derek don't see each other for five days.

They talk through texts, but even that is not as much as they are used to doing.

Before, you know, Stiles asked Derek to drive him home after their fight.

Their first _fight_.

So he could think about things.

Namely: their relationship, Derek's many issues, and what Stiles is going to do about it.

So Stiles spends those five days going to work, ignoring the looks his friends send his way for him being quieter than usual, and _reflecting_.

Stiles doesn't really know how to deal with Derek right now.

Doesn't really know how to deal with someone this fragile and closed off when he hasn't got a clue as to what happen to make him this way.

Well, that's not really true.

He thinks he has some idea as to what might be the issue here, but only because he's spent most of his life in Scott's house, with Mrs. McCall and Scott's dad. Before he decided to split, that is.

It makes Stiles sick to his stomach to think Derek might have gone through the same emotional abuse Mrs. McCall did when she was married.

But it makes sense, with the way Derek avoids eye contact when he thinks he might have done something to make Stiles upset, and how often he apologizes, and how every time Stiles does something nice for him, he always gets that look like he doesn't really understand why Stiles would, or why he deserves it.

And he can see Derek's trying his best to let Stiles in, he just _doesn't know how_ to do that yet, and Stiles has to give it to him.

He knows how hard it is to open up about certain things, especially with the background Stiles thinks Derek has, and the fact Derek is willing to do that for him, because he asked, means so much more than Derek will ever know.

Like letting Stiles inside his home, even if he doesn't live there anymore.

Stiles knows it cost Derek something to bring him to the Hale house, to let that part of himself out there for Stiles to see, to take that step.

But there's also a part of Stiles that can't really decide if he wants Derek to keep trying or not.

He knows it hurts Derek to talk about whatever it is that happened, and he doesn't like seeing Derek hurt. And he also knows that once he learns about this part of Derek he tries so hard to hide, it'll hurt him too.

Especially if his suspicions are proven right.

He can't even imagine what kind of things Derek must have heard, for how long, and how deep they're woven into his very being, making him believe whatever crap they told him.

And Stiles knows it is crap, he just doesn't really know how he'll go about making Derek realize it.

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Stiles will be there by his side to help him through it.

Because Derek hurting is Stiles hurting.

Derek is that important to him, and fuck the world if anyone thinks Stiles won't do anything in his power to make Derek not hurt anymore.

So he takes his phone out of his pocket and starts typing.

**To: Derek**

_is the offer to teach me how to cook still standing?_

He shouldn't be surprised when he receives an answer about thirty seconds later, making him wonder if Derek was glued to his phone as if waiting for Stiles to come to a conclusion after his five days of thinking and contact him.

**From: Derek**

_It is._

Stiles worries at his bottom lip with his teeth as he and Derek keep texting about meeting with the excuse of Derek teaching Stiles how to make something, all the while thinking if that'd be as good of a time as any to start asking Derek questions and trying to get a feel for what happened to him.

He thinks Derek knows this is an excuse to pry, because as soon as they have the details settled to start cooking lessons three days from now, he sends Stiles another text.

**From: Derek**

_And maybe we could talk._

**From: Derek**

_About some things._

Stiles breathes out slowly through his nose, typing out a _yes, we can_ before hitting send.

He hopes whatever this things are will give him some insight into what Derek's issues are and how deep they go.

And that he's strong enough to deal with them.

* * *

"So," Stiles drawls out. "How do we do this?"

They're in the middle of Stiles' kitchen, grocery bags adorning the table, about to introduce Stiles to the wonders of cooking.

Stiles greeted Derek with a quick kiss when he arrived at Stiles' apartment, both of them leaving together to go grocery shopping with the list Derek made for the night.

They haven't really talked about anything other than food and how to make it yet, but Stiles hopes that once they get to cooking, they'll get to talking.

And he'll get to learn more about Derek.

"First, wash your hands," Derek points at the kitchen sink. "Then we take a look at the recipe, see what we need, and start laying things out on the counter."

"Yes, sir," Stiles salutes, going to wash his hands. "What are we making, anyways?"

"You told me you know how to cook pasta," Derek says, handing Stiles a dishtowel before washing his own hands. "So I figured I could work with that and teach you how to make different types of sauce. That way you give people the illusion you actually know how to make a lot of plates when you really only know how to make one thing but in a lot of different ways."

Stiles blinks at him a couple of times before shaking his head and saying, "That's kind of genius."

"Thank you," Derek says dryly.

"So what sauce are we going with?"

Derek shrugs, "I figured we could go with something healthy? I know you're always complaining about your dad's diet, so I thought learning how to make something to make it for him on dinner nights would be best."

Stiles presses his lips together as his chest grows warm, expression softening as Derek looks expectantly at him, "Yeah, I'd like that."

As it turns out they're making tomato, onions and mushroom sauce, which doesn't really sound much like _sauce_ to Stiles, just stuff to nibble on while he's cooking something else.

They don't really talk as they start chopping and cutting onions and tomatoes, that is until Stiles glances at Derek from the corner of his eye and asks, "Where did you learn how to cook?"

He feels more than sees tension in Derek's body before he forces himself to relax, hearing his throat work as he swallows.

"My father taught me."

Stiles stays quiet.

He knows better than to offer his condolences.

He knows they won't make anything better, won't make it stop hurting.

So he stays quiet and listens.

"Mom spent a lot of time in court or at the company working on cases. She wasn't home much, and when she did find some time to spend with us she didn't want to waste it on cooking," Derek explains, voice quiet. "Dad could leave Uncle Peter at the garage so he could come home and make us something. He'd let us help more often than not, and as I got older I started asking him to teach me more things."

Stiles thinks about his mom, wondering if she would have agreed to teach him how to cook if she had more time.

He likes to think she would, and would be even more strict about the Sheriff's diet than Stiles is now.

"He passed away four years ago. Car accident," Derek continues, and this is the confirmation Stiles didn't want, that Derek's dad was not here anymore. "Cooking was our thing. Laura and Cora never really had the patience for it, and mom didn't have the time. And after he died it was just something- something-"

"To bring you closer together," Stiles fills in when Derek trails off. "To honor his memory by."

Stiles understands.

More than he'd like to.

"Yes," Derek nods, voice cracking a little. "That's it."

"Well, then," Stiles says lightly, bumping their shoulders together. "Teach me your ways, Derek Hale."

Derek lets out a snort and does exactly that, ordering Stiles around his kitchen and saying he needs to learn how to do this stuff on his own whenever Stiles complains and asks for help.

Derek gets him to start heating a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in a large deep pan Stiles didn't really know he had, adding the chopped onions and letting it cook for about five minutes.

Five minutes where Derek talks a little bit more.

"My mom didn't really consider moving back here until after my dad died," Derek tells him, watching as the onion starts losing its color and turning translucent. "Even when we got the letter from the county telling us they were going to take the house if we didn't do something about it, she still thought about staying. Renovating the house, maybe renting it, but never coming back here. Not really."

"What made her change her mind?" Stiles asks, getting the sliced button mushrooms from another bag.

"I had a girlfriend," Derek says, and Stiles is so startled by this he almost cuts his finger open.

Because he thought Derek liked guys.

He remember Derek's expression when Stiles asked him about having a girlfriend when they first met, a mixture of dread and disgust that got Stiles assuming he was gay.

"It didn't end well," Derek adds. "Not for me and not for my family."

Stiles adds the tomatoes cut in wedges to the pan with the onions, adding two cups of the mushrooms as he process what Derek just said.

It gives him an idea as to why Derek is so reluctant to let Stiles get anywhere near his family, because whatever happened when they broke up must have taken its toll not only on Derek but on others he cared about as well.

Stiles just doesn't know if something happened to them directly, or if they were suffering because something happened to _Derek_, or both.

"You have to let it simmer for about twenty minutes," Derek points at the pan. "You can probably start with the penne halfway through that time, that way everything will be ready around the same time."

Stiles nods, leaning against the counter as he crosses his arms over his chest and stares at Derek.

He pulled a chair over close to the stove sometime after he finished helping Stiles chop vegetables, staying near him so he could keep an eye on how things were going.

"Can I ask you what happened? With your girlfriend?"

Derek looks up at him, expression hard as he considers Stiles' question.

Stiles fights down the urge to go to him, staying where he is and not breaking eye contact.

"She used me to get to my mother," Derek answers bluntly.

Stiles stares at him with eyes a little wide and jaw slack.

Derek's trust issues suddenly make sense, but now Stiles seems to have even more questions that need answering.

And to his utter and complete fucking surprise, Derek helps.

"She wanted a better job, more money, a change of statuses," Derek says, voice flat. "She saw she could get that through me and my family, so she took the opportunity and ran with it."

Stiles shakes his head, not knowing what to say.

"There's more to it, but-," Derek cuts off, scrubbing a hand over his face. "But I'm not ready to tell you about it yet."

"Okay," Stiles says, voice coming out a little rough. "I think you told me enough for today."

Derek tries to give him a smile that looks more like a wince, and Stiles finally walks up to him and lets his fingers card through Derek's hair.

"Thank you for telling me that," Stiles whispers. "I know it's not an easy thing for you to do, and I appreciate it."

"I wanted you to know," Derek tells him, leaning into the touch. "I think- I think that helps. It makes it easier for me. Knowing that you want to hear about it makes it easier for me to tell you about it."

"I do want to know about it. And I'll always hear what you have to say."

Stiles bends over and brushes their lips together, hand coming down from Derek's hair to cup his jaw. Derek opens up for him, sucking Stiles' tongue into his mouth, letting him control the kiss.

"Think I should start on the pasta?" Stiles mumbles against his lips.

"You could start boiling water," Derek tells him. "And then pasta."

"And then we can make out some more?"

Derek answers by nipping at Stiles' lower lip, giving him a small smile when Stiles lets out a low chuckle.

He pulls back after pecking Derek one final time on the lips and goes in search of a large pot, filling it with water and placing it on the stove so it can boil.

He then comes back to Derek, ducking his head to hide a pleased smile when Derek grabs his hand and lowers Stiles onto his lap, arms going around Stiles' waist and holding him close.

Stiles is still feeling a little uneasy about their relationship, but he knows these things take work.

He knows he'll have to be patient about Derek learning how to open up and let Stiles in. But just now he knows that if he _asks_, Derek will gladly tell him about things and let him know when the conversation has become too much for him to handle.

And now that he knows that he can't help but think about all the other times Derek took charge of things after Stiles made the first move.

Like Derek asking for his number after Stiles asked him if he meant what he said in the ambulance about him.

And making a big deal out of their first date after Stiles told him he wanted to see him.

And now sharing about his life after Stiles told him he wants to know about it and asking questions.

It's almost as if Derek needs to be reassured that it' okay to do or say some things.

Derek's lips are warm and soft against his, moving slowly and carefully like he's also acknowledging the step that was taken and the changes that'll bring to their relationship.

It gives Stiles hope for their future together, if what happened today continues after they finish dinner and Derek goes back to his place.

It gives him hope that they'll be able to overcome whatever Derek went through and create something between the two of them.

Something so much better.

"You should start cooking the pasta," Derek says lowly, rubbing their noses together.

Stiles sighs, placing a kiss to the corner of Derek's mouth before getting up and dumping a package of penne pasta on the boiling water.

He checks the sauce, seeing it's reducing and thickening, before going back to sit on Derek's lap.

"Thanks for inviting me today," Derek says, pressing his lips against Stiles' shoulder.

"Thank you for offering to teach me how to cook," Stiles replies, placing a kiss to Derek's hairline. "I have to admit, it's been kind of cool so far."

"And you haven't even burned anything," Derek teases, huffing a laugh when Stiles gasps in mock-offense and hits him in the chest with the back of his hand. "Go stir in the sauce a quarter of a cup of fresh basil and season it with as much salt and pepper as you want."

"Just so you know," Stiles raises an eyebrow at him as he does what he's told. "You're washing all the dishes."

"Looking forward to it," Derek smiles at him, eyes crinkling.

Stiles rolls his eyes at him and goes back to stirring the sauce, checking on the pasta as he does so.

It doesn't take much before that for it all to be ready, Derek helping him get a bowl so Stiles can dump the pasta in and the sauce on top of it.

"Smells good," Stiles says as he grabs the pan with the sauce and spreads it over the pasta, licking his lips as he sees how it all comes together.

"Looks good, too," Derek nods. "Now we just need to know how it tastes before we declare your first lesson a success."

"Grab the plates then," Stiles sniffs, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

"What are you doing?"

"There's no way I'm not taking a picture of my very first decent cooked meal," Stiles says, typing on his phone. "And sending it to everyone I know so they can be proud of me."

Derek shakes his head, "We're eating in the living room?"

Stiles doesn't really know why Derek asked.

It's not like he makes use of his dining table.

Except for when he's hosting the McCall-Stilinski Weekly Dinner.

"Yep," Stiles says, popping the 'p'. "I'll be right over with his."

Derek nods and walks away, Stiles putting away his phone and grabbing a dishcloth so he won't burn his hands when taking the bowl.

When he gets to the living room is to find Derek setting the coffee table, making space in the middle so Stiles can place the food.

"Do you want to do the honors?" Stiles asks as they both sit on the couch and stare at the finished product.

Derek doesn't say anything, just goes right ahead and starts serving them both.

Stiles stares down at his plate with wariness, a little bit scared of taking the first bite to see how it tastes.

"What if it tastes horrible?"

"We'll order take out," Derek shrugs, grabbing his fork and stabbing tomato, mushroom, and penne pieces.

Stiles eyes him expectantly as Derek opens his mouth and takes a bite, chewing slowly.

"So?"

"It's not awful," Derek says, mouth full.

Stiles blinks at him, waiting for more.

When Derek just goes for another bite, Stiles shrugs and says, "Okay. I'll take it."

He starts on his own plate, then, the smell of spices filling his nose as he takes his fork to his mouth.

And realizes that not only his pasta is _not awful_, it's actually _pretty fucking tasty_.

It's not the best pasta he's ever ate in his entire life, but it tastes _good_.

And he's the one who _cooked it_.

"I'll let it slide you underrating my food if you go out and buy us ice cream."

"Already did," Derek tells him, lips curling up. "I bought it while we were grocery shopping and hid it in your fridge when you weren't looking."

"Sneaky," Stiles gasps, letting his face break into a smile as he leans in and kisses Derek's cheek. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_ for dinner," Derek tells him. "It's actually really good."

Stiles beams at him, "I have a pretty good teacher."

The tips of Derek's ears start to redden as he ducks his head and looks at Stiles from under his lashes, "Thanks. You- You're a good student."

"That's good to hear. Because I want you to keep teaching me stuff."

"I will," Derek says, and then lowers his voice. "It's good to- I like doing it. And it's good having someone do it with me. It's- It's like it used to, a little bit. Different, but kind of the same."

Stiles gives him a sad smile, "I had fun. We should do this whenever we can."

Derek turns his head to stare at Stiles consideringly, expression sad and warm at the same time.

"My dad would have liked you."

They don't make any more conversation after that, and as Stiles goes back to eating, he hopes Derek's right.

* * *

Derek stays over for the first time almost two weeks after that.

They're up for another cooking lesson, Stiles reminding Derek of the conversation they had about Stiles learning how to make meatballs and freaking out about not knowing what to cook for dinner with his family.

Derek had told him to go with cheesy baked rice instead of his to go pasta with meatballs, but what Stiles didn't really tell Derek at the time was that he had _no idea_ how to make it.

So Derek teaches him, and Stiles is surprised to find that it's not actually that hard to make, even though it takes a lot longer than pasta.

They eat dinner in the living room like always, Derek washing the dishes after they're done.

It's the one thing Stiles won't budge on.

He cooks, even though it's with Derek telling him how, and Derek cleans up later.

They go back to the living room after the last fork is put dry and put away, cuddling up on Stiles couch and flicking channels looking for something to watch.

Derek stops him by wrenching the control out of his hand when he sees _Criminal Minds_ is on.

"Hey!"

Derek shushes him, "Morgan's talking."

Stiles looks from Derek to the tv and then back to Derek again.

"Is your favorite character really the one named _Derek_?"

Derek just raises an eyebrow at him, "Because your favorites in _Chicago Fire_ aren't Dawson and Shay, right?"

"They're badass EMTs, okay?" Stiles sniffs. "And I thought we weren't talking."

"We aren't," Derek agrees, lips twitching as he stares back at the tv.

Stiles lets out a snort and makes himself comfortable, resting his head on Derek's shoulder and glueing his eyes to the screen.

It's around the middle of episode two that Derek starts carding his fingers through Stiles' hair, scratching at his scalp, fingers dipping down to trace the tendons of Stiles' neck.

Stiles falls asleep like that, feeling warm and heavy and safe, Derek's leather and pine needle scent on his nose, his strong chest against Stiles' side, their breathing in sync.

And then he startles awake to the TV still on and the living room dark, having no idea what time it is.

He's half propped against Derek's chest, Derek's hand a warm weight on his shoulder, his own arm thrown over Derek's stomach, fingers curling on the fabric of his shirt.

Derek has his head thrown back and resting against the couch, throat exposed, lips parted as he breathes softly through his mouth.

Stiles' heart constricts in his chest as sits up slowly, trying not to wake him, turning his head to the side so he can see Derek from a better angle.

He looks impossibly young like this, expression smooth and unguarded, and Stiles doesn't even hesitate to reach out a hand and trace the bridge of Derek's nose with a finger.

On the TV, Mary Beth Peil says that _you know you truly love someone when you can sit all night and watch them sleep..._

Stiles' finger stops right at the tip of Derek's nose, the words he just heard spinning in circles around his head.

Because he can almost feel it.

_Love_.

For Derek.

He can almost feel it but it's not there, not just yet.

But this is the moment where he truly knows he could love him.

He could love the man in front of him with all his heart, forever.

It's been two months since their first date, with a couple of big bumps on the way, but the potential is already there.

And that scares the shit out of him.

Because Derek is...

Derek is fucked up, if Stiles is being honest.

He had some pretty shitty things happen to him, and they left scars.

Scars Stiles knows he'll have to learn how to smooth out and help heal if they stay together.

Which is something Stiles _really_ wants it to happen, but that doesn't make the situation any less scary.

But he guesses he was always fascinated by things that could hurt him, Derek most of all.

Being with him will be a test of strength, and Stiles hopes to hell he can make it.

Because as terrifying as it is to reach out and grasp the edges of what he's feeling for Derek and turn it into _something_, Stiles wants it.

He wants it because he grew up around it, with his parents.

And because he sees it now, with Scott and Allison.

He wants that for him, and he knows he could have it with Derek.

As long as Derek feels the same way.

So he commits Derek' sleeping face to memory and starts running his fingers through Derek's hair instead, tugging every now and again as he calls, "Derek, baby, wake up."

Derek's face twitches, brows furrowing and lips smacking together as he opens his eyes and blinks wearly up at Stiles.

"Time is it?" Derek asks, voice thick with sleep.

"Don't know," Stiles says quietly, leaning a bit back when Derek rights himself on the couch and scrubs a hand over his face. "We fell asleep."

Derek makes a sound in the back of his throat and sighs, settling his head back against the back of the couch as he blinks up at the ceiling.

Stiles keeps playing with his hair, soft smile on his lips and eyes glued to Derek's face.

Yeah, he could love him.

And then Derek turns to look at him, still looking half asleep as he mumbles, "I should go."

"Or you could stay," Stiles offers, not taking his eyes off Derek's face.

Especially when Derek looks back at him, surprised.

As much as they cuddle whenever they can, they never slept in the same bed before, and Stiles never offered the possibility of that happening.

But as much as Derek is trying and letting Stiles in, Stiles figures he should do the same.

And he has to admit he's curious about knowing what it feels like to wake up with Derek wrapped around him in the mornings, what it feels like to fall asleep to the sound of Derek breathing next to him, what it feels like to have Derek in bed with him at nights.

So he's kind of really fucking hoping Derek will say yes.

But this is Derek's choice to make, not his, to decide if he's ready to let that happen.

So Stiles just waits while Derek considers it, never once stopping the movements of his hand against Derek's hair.

"You'll have to lend me a toothbrush," is what Derek finally says after a few more minutes, lips curling up in a pleased smile when Stiles just shakes his head at him and tries to calm down his beating heart.

"I'll even let you pick the color," Stiles tells him, proud his voice comes out steady, getting up from the couch and reaching a hand out to Derek.

"How nice of you," Derek says flatly, taking Stiles hand and letting himself be pulled up.

Stiles takes a moment to stare at him when Derek raises his arms above his head and stretches, shirt riding up and exposing a sliver of skin and a trail of hair running down from his navel and past the waistband of his jeans.

Derek catches him looking, tilting his head to the side as he obviously takes in the way Stiles' cheeks turn pink.

"C'mon," Stiles says, licking his lips. "Let's get ready for bed."

And doesn't that sound like something Stiles wants to say _all the fucking time_.

They both walk in silence to Stiles' bedroom, Derek sticking close to him as Stiles bypasses the bed and goes for his bathroom, hitting the lights as they go on.

Stiles opens a drawer and takes two toothbrushes and hands them to Derek, a small smirk playing at his lips.

Derek takes one look at them and rolls his eyes, "Really?"

"I told you I'd let you choose."

"Between _colors_," Derek says. "Not between Batman and _Spiderman_."

"I know," Stiles nods, expression grim. "It's a tough choice."

"I'm dating a _child_," Derek groans as he looks skywards, as if asking for strength.

Stiles laughs at him, grabbing his own toothbrush from the cup holder and slicking it with toothpaste.

He glances at Derek from the corner of his eye and sees him frowning down at his hands before sighing and opening the package of the Batman brush and putting the Spiderman one away.

"Good choice," Stiles says, or at least tries to.

He ends up with spit and foam running down his chin instead.

"Classy," Derek mutters under his breath, wiping at Stiles' chin with his thumb and turning on the water to wash it clean.

They brush their teeth side by side, Stiles bumping Derek's shoulder with his own whenever he sees Derek staring at him from his reflection on the mirror.

Stiles' stomach flips as he takes in the image the two of them make together, how domestic they must look right now. Even more so when Derek finishes brushing his teeth and leaves his Batman toothbrush on Stiles' cup holder.

He rinses his mouth, trying to push down the sudden hit of nerves as it sinks in that he and Derek will be spending the night together.

Not that he's that successful as Derek follows after him as they get back to the bedroom, Stiles feeling a little bit awkward and a lot jittery as his eyes go from the bed and back to Derek.

And Derek's clothes.

"Uh," Stiles starts, scratching the back of his neck with one hand as he gestures at Derek with the other. "Do you want some shorts or something else to sleep in?"

Derek clears his throat, Adam's apple bobbing as he shakes his head, "It's better if I don't. I tend to give out a lot of heat when I'm sleeping."

"Oh," Stiles blinks at him. "Okay, then."

They stand there staring at each other for a few seconds until Stiles' points back to the bathroom.

"I'll just go change, then," Stiles says. "You can put your clothes on top of my computer chair and go ahead and get into bed. I'll be right back."

Stiles waits for Derek's nod before turning around and going back to the bathroom, pushing the door until it's almost shut and covers Derek's view of him.

He takes off his clothes slowly, giving Derek time to change so he won't feel uncomfortable when Stiles walks back into the room, turning off the lights as he goes.

And when he does, it's to find Derek sprawled over half of the bed, on his belly, arms tucked safely under one of Stiles' pillow.

And only wearing a pair of tight black boxer briefs.

With the faint light coming from Stiles' open window illuminating his features.

And-

"You have a _tattoo_?" Stiles shrieks, pointing an accusing finger at Derek's back.

Derek just lifts his head from Stiles' pillow and looks back at him, raising an eyebrow at him.

Stiles gapes.

Derek sighs and says, "I told you maybe you just hadn't seen it yet."

Stiles opens and closes his mouth, lowering his arm as he walks slowly to the bed and braces a knee and a hand on the mattress, climbing up.

He sits indian style on the side not occupied by Derek, his knees brushing Derek's side, eyes zeroed in on the black swirls in the middle of Derek's shoulder blades.

"This is the same design on your mom's bar," Stiles comments, raising a hand to trace the ink with the tip of his fingers.

Derek shivers a little at the touch, pressing his face more firmly against the pillow and his arm.

"It's a family thing," Derek says, just like he did back then. "It means something different to each of us, but to me it's more of a Past, Present, and Future thing. Like what you did before comes together to make you who you are today and define what kind of person you can be later."

Stiles splays his hand against the design, feeling the warmth of Derek's back sweep into his palm.

"I can understand that," Stiles says quietly. "It looks good on you."

"I like it," Derek shrugs one shoulder, making Stiles' hand move.

He lingers a while before pulling his hand back and lying down on his side, facing Derek.

"Hi."

"Hey," Derek whispers, eyes glinting in the dark.

Now, this close to Derek, Stiles doesn't really fight the urge to shuffle closer.

He knows he told him he'd let Derek set the pace of their relationship, but he thinks it's safe for him to push the boundaries a little tonight.

You know, since Derek agreed to stay.

He still stops and asks, "Is this okay?" when his hands starts sliding up and down Derek's back, his feet tangling with Derek's own.

He freezes when he feels Derek tense, though, not pulling back, just staying where he is, without moving.

Little by little Derek forces his body to relax, but Stiles doesn't resume his caresses.

"I need you to talk to me," Stiles says softly against the skin of Derek's arm, staring at Derek's eyes that close shut when Stiles started touching him. "I need to know when it's okay for me to touch you, and if anything I'm doing needs to not be done because you don't like it."

"I'm not-," Derek shakes his head a little, back arching into Stiles' touch. "I don't know if-"

Stiles waits, puckering his lips and pressing barely there kisses against Derek's arm.

He feels Derek take a deep breath beneath his palm, the rapid beating of his heart.

Derek doesn't say anything for a long time, Stiles staying right where he is as he waits.

"I told you about," Derek starts, shifting closer to Stiles. "I told you about my ex."

Stiles makes an affirmative noise in the back of his throat, waiting for Derek to elaborate.

"When we'd-," Derek trails off, but it's not hard for Stiles to add in had sex after that. "It wasn't- She didn't- I don't think she enjoyed it."

Stiles frowns, not really getting it.

"And with you, I don't know if- I don't know if you'll feel-"

"You don't know if I'll feel the same," Stiles says it all in one breath, closing his eyes when Derek nods.

His hand starts moving again as he collects his thoughts, stomach churning at wondering what the fuck was Derek's relationship with this woman.

"I can't tell you I'll like everything you want to do with me, or to me," Stiles says, figuring this is about as good of a starting place as any. "We'll have to talk a lot about what kind of things we like doing or having done to us, but I want you to know that I'll always give you feedback on things. I'm pretty vocal when it comes to stuff I like, and even more so about stuff I don't like."

Derek snorts at that, Stiles' own lips twitching as he feels Derek relax more against the mattress.

"I expect the same thing from you," Stiles keeps going. "If you don't like something, tell me. I don't want you to be uncomfortable or feel like I'm pushing you into things. And I know I told you we'd take things as slow or as fast as you'd like, but right now I'd like us to talk about that, because I have a feeling the reason we didn't do anything yet is because of what you just told me."

He waits for Derek's nods again, lips thinning as he tries to calm himself down and not call someone from Derek's family demanding the name of this woman so he can fuck her shit up.

"If the reason nothing happened yet is because you're afraid of how I'm going to react, then you have nothing to worry about," Stiles tells him, placing a kiss on Derek's arm again and feeling it flex beneath his lips. "I think it's pretty safe to say I'll like almost everything, because I'm doing it with _you_. I'm into you, dude, so I'm almost a hundred percent sure I'll be on board with whatever it is you want to do. But if the reason we haven't done anything is because you're still not ready to take our relationship there yet, then it's cool. I can wait. I told you I'm not in this for sex, but because I like you and I want to spend time with you, and that still stands. Okay?"

This time he doesn't get a nod.

He gets Derek opening his eyes and lifting his head up a little and mumbling out a, "Okay."

"Good," Stiles smiles at him, and then says, "So which one is it?"

Derek blinks at him a few times before saying, "A little bit of both."

Stiles nods, "You're gonna have to explain it to me. I don't want any misunderstandings between us."

Derek stares at him, Stiles knowing he's taking his time to get his words straight before he starts talking.

Stiles nuzzles against the skin of his arm, because this means Derek knows this is important.

"Your reaction," Derek starts. "That was a big part of it. With her it was- It didn't make me feel good about myself. So thinking there was a chance it could be the same with you, I kept myself from doing anything. And now that I know that's not going to happen, I still- I want more, but I want to take things slow. I'm not ready for- for everything, not yet. I'd like to tell you more about what happened before we got that far."

Stiles turns the words in his head, processing what Derek told him as he keeps rubbing circles over his naked back.

"Okay," Stiles says, nodding. "Okay, I can do that. We can do that, together. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Derek says, turning on his side so they're both facing each other.

Stiles' palm slides off Derek's back to his side, the arm Stiles had his face pressed against coming to snake around his waist, Derek pulling him close so their chests are pressed together, skin to skin.

Stiles has to say, he's feeling pretty good right now.

"Do you want to do anything tonight?" Stiles asks, tucking his head under Derek's chin.

Derek shakes his head, "Wanna stay like this."

"Okay," Stiles says, nuzzling against Derek's throat. "Just so you know, you have my permission to start anything you want, whenever you want it. If I have a problem with it, I'll tell you, but I don't want you to feel like you have to wait for me to do something, okay?"

"Okay," Derek mutters against his hair. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, big guy," Stiles pats Derek's ribs before he pulls back to press a kiss to Derek's lips. "Night, baby."

Derek waits for him to settle back down before pressing his smile against Stiles' forehead and whispering, "Night, Bunny."

And yeah, Stiles could love him.

* * *

Stiles suspects that telling Derek he doesn't have to wait for Stiles to initiate physical contact of _the sexual kind_ was probably one of the best decisions he's ever made in his life.

It's not like they're fucking like bunnies - heh - every chance they get, because it's only been about a week since said convo took place, but Derek is a lot more comfortable in taking things a little bit further whenever they find themselves alone.

Sort of like right now.

"Derek, we're going to be - _fuck, that feels good_. We're going to be late, I don't want to be- _Derek, oh my god_."

Stiles feels Derek's smile against his collarbone, teeth scraping against the soft skin as Derek sucks a mark at the hollow of his' throat.

Oh, yeah.

_Biting kink_.

That's a thing Derek has that Stiles makes no qualms about_ loving it_.

"I'm serious, Derek. If we don't go now we're going to be late and there won't be any time to buy popcorn and I need popcorn when I'm- _oh fuck_."

And did Stiles mention that alone also means alone in the Jeep while in a parking lot in front of the movies?

Because that's what's happening.

Derek presses tiny kisses to his throat and up until he can mouth at the hinge of Stiles' jaw and murmur against his ear, "In a second", and going right back to what he was doing.

"Fuck, you're the best and worst boyfriend ever I swear to god," Stiles mutters under his breath as he gets a hand on Derek's hair and tugs him up, mashing their lips together for a slow and deep kiss.

Derek makes a little happy sound in the back of his throat and opens up for him, letting him lick his way into Derek's mouth.

Stiles breaks the kiss a little too soon for his liking, but in his defense, he really wants to go to the movies.

And not have the police called on them for public indecency.

Derek actually _whimpers_ when Stiles pulls back, lips pursed in something that looks a lot like a pout.

He looks fucking _adorable_, and Stiles has to bite down on his lower lip to keep from grinning, doing his best to appear put out as he mock-glares at Derek.

By the way Derek keeps his gaze locked on his lips, he's not doing a very good job.

"_Derek_," Stiles tries to sound stern, giving up when Derek looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. "_Fine_. I admit to love having your mouth on me but _the movie_, baby. It's gonna start soon and I need all the buttery popcorn first, so we have to go _now_. Or we'll be late. And I'll have _no popcorn_, which is not something I'm okay with. So, let's go."

"Okay," Derek nods at him, eyes having gone back to staring at Stiles' lips halfway through Stiles' speech. "Just-"

And as he leans in for another kiss Stiles gets a hand over Derek's face and pushes him away, all the while yelling, "No more kisses for you until I get my popcorn!"

A few people walking past the parked Jeep turn their heads to stare at them, Derek laughing against Stiles' hand and blowing kisses at him while Stiles continues to scream about being late and the wonders of butter.

Not that Stiles notices, really.

Not when Derek falls back against the passenger side seat and starts laughing, shoulders shaking and eyes glinting as he stares at Stiles.

And if Stiles thought that seeing Derek smile at him would kill him, then Derek actually laughing is like bringing him back to life.

Only to stab him repeatedly in the chest with a knife.

The warmth he feels spreading through his chest and arms and face and down to the tip of his toes can only be _blood_, because he feels absolutely gutted right now.

Because in the time Stiles has known Derek, this is the first time he remembers seeing him laugh at something. Like a belly laugh, a laugh that shakes your entire body, a laugh that leaves you gasping for air and clutching your stomach and wiping tears from your eyes.

And _fuck_ if that doesn't break Stiles' heart.

And _fuck_ if that doesn't make him promise to himself that he'll do anything in his power to make Derek keep laughing like that.

"Are you done?" Stiles purses his lips at him, expression soft.

And a little bit sad, but he doesn't think Derek sees it.

Not when he grins dangerously at Stiles, says, "No," and leans in for one more kiss.

He's gone before Stiles can say or do anything, pulling back and flicking Stiles' nose and opening the door and climbing out of the Jeep, his self-satisfied chuckle echoing through the now almost empty parking lot.

Stiles tries not to smile like a loon.

He doesn't succeed.

Instead he goes after Derek, locking the Jeep and jogging until he catches up with his boyfriend almost at the movies' entry. He throws his arms around Derek's shoulders, pressing a sound kiss against the back of his neck.

"Buy me food while I buy us tickets?"

"I thought you wanted to have a moment alone with your popcorn," Derek deadpans. "I don't want to deprive you of that."

"Don't mock," Stiles sticks his tongue out at him.

"I would _never_," Derek says dryly, and that's another thing he got from spending so much time with Stiles.

"See if I don't chew obnoxiously loud in your ear when the movie starts," Stiles narrows his eyes at him.

"Will you forgive me if I buy you Reese's?"

"A man after my own heart," Stiles clutches at his imaginary pearls.

Derek snorts and gives his cheek a quick kiss, walking away to buy them snacks while Stiles takes care of the tickets.

They settle into their seats as they wait for the movie to start, Stiles carrying their drink while Derek deals with Stiles' popcorn, Reese's, and the gummi bears he bought for himself.

Stiles grabs a handful of popcorn and stuffs it in his mouth, ignoring the disgusted look Derek throws his way when he licks the butter off his fingers.

"_Yummy_."

"I'm not kissing you tonight," Derek wrinkles his nose at him.

Stiles tries not to find him endearing as fuck.

Like usual, he fails.

"Yes, you are," Stiles licks his lips, greasy with butter and salt. "I refuse to come to the movies and not make out with you even if for just a _little bit_."

"I'm getting no where near you while half of your face is covered in butter."

"C'mon, baby," Stiles bats his lashes at him. "I bet it makes me taste good."

"Don't need butter to like how you taste," Derek says lowly, almost shyly, as he glares down at Stiles' popcorn bucket.

And that's a little glimpse at the Derek Stiles saw when they first met, mumbling sweet but kind of filthy things under his breath while Stiles tries desperately to keep his reactions to him in check.

It's a lot easier doing it while he's sitting down and, you know, not running the risk of tripping and falling face down on the ground.

"Okay, you have to kiss me after saying that," Stiles says just as quietly, lips twitching up.

Derek presses his lips together and picks up one of their many napkins, wiping Stiles' face clean of grease and salt. He doesn't stop there, making Stiles take a sip of his soda and eating about seven gummi bears before he judges it's okay to lean in and kiss him.

Stiles is amused.

And then he's too busy for feeling anything other than the rush he always gets when Derek's mouth is on his own, both of them tasting sweet as Derek licks his way past the seam of Stiles's lips and into his mouth.

And if they get thrown out of the theater because a woman thinks it's innapropriate to make out while shit's blowing up on screen, well, Stiles doesn't really care.

* * *

**From: Lydia**

_When are you going to introduce us to your boyfriend, Stiles? It's been over two months._

**From: Scott**

_bro lydia cant stop asking about derek and when we r going to meet him i don't kno what to say but just a heads up it has to be soon shes starting to get scary_

**From: Danny**

_if you bring derek with you next time we all have dinner together i'll bring ethan. that way lydia will satisfy her curiosity and we won't have a nervous breakdown because of all the pressure. what do you think? y/y_

**From: Allison**

_I know this is totally ur call but what do you think of inviting Derek to have dinner with us when we next get together? I think all of us would like to meet him :))_

**From: Jackson**

_If I have to hear Lydia complain about you keeping your boyfriend away from us one more time I'm going to stab you._

It's on the third night Derek stays over - after teaching Stiles how to make Coke Chicken with Herbed Potatoes - that Stiles brings it up.

Or the morning after, really.

After they've eaten and Derek has declared Stiles' meal another success and they've both cleaned up and gone to bed, snuggling.

After Stiles wakes up with his face pressed against the back of Derek's neck and his hair tickling Stiles' nose and his hand being held in a tight grip against Derek's chest.

After Stiles starts kissing him awake, light at first, just a quick press of lips to Derek's shoulder and neck and that spot behind his ear.

After Derek turns on his back, Stiles' hand still in his as he pulls him so Stiles is on top of him and can get to his mouth.

After morning breath kisses and finally getting up and going to brush their teeth and Stiles smiling at Derek's Batman toothbrush and mint flavored kisses this time.

"I'm making us breakfast," Stiles tells him as they walk out of the bedroom, neither of them bothering with clothes as they step into the kitchen. "I make mean scrambled eggs."

"Good to know," Derek says, voice a little rough with sleep as he flops down on a chair and rests his forehead against the table.

Derek's not really a morning person.

He's always awake enough for kisses, but if you ask him to cook or do anything that takes a little more work, he'll shut down on you.

Stiles has learned to leave him be for a few minutes while he gets breakfast ready, directing some questions his way so he can hear Derek grunt and make sure he didn't fall asleep with his head against the table.

It's been known to happen.

Or at least it did, the first morning they spent together.

And if Stiles has pictures of Derek snoring with his mouth open and drooling on his kitchen table, no one needs to know.

Stiles sets a mug of coffee in front of Derek and pokes him in the neck, grinning when Derek straightens up like he's been shot and then makes a humming sound at the back of his throat when he sees the mug and grabs it to take a sip.

He doesn't say anything as he makes the eggs, neither when he serves them on two plates and sets them on the table for both of them to eat.

Derek is looking more aware now that he's had his first cup of coffee, letting out an appreciative moan when he starts eating.

"'s really good," Derek says as he chews, eyebrows arching a little.

"Don't sound so surprised. I can make breakfast," Stiles scrunches his nose up at him. "Or I can make _some_ breakfast, and scrambled eggs is on that list."

Derek just nods at him, still eating, and not entirely awake.

Stiles rolls his eyes at him.

It's when Derek is helping him with the dishes that Stiles thinks it's a good time to mention all of his friends have been texting him pretty much non stop asking Stiles when he's going to bring Derek to them.

Stiles wonders if Derek will think it's hypocritical of him to not have introduced him yet, especially when Stiles pretty much knows Derek's entire family.

And especially when Derek wanting to keep Stiles away from them was the reason they had their first fight.

He hopes Derek doesn't.

"I have something I want to run by you," Stiles says as he rinses the last of the mugs and hands it to Derek so he can dry it.

"Okay," Derek nods, throwing the dishcloth over his shoulder so he can put away the mug.

Stiles bites his lips, figuring going straight to the point will make this easier for both of them.

"I want you to meet my friends."

Derek freezes in the process of folding Stiles' dishcloth and setting it aside, the fabric hanging limply and damp against his fingers.

He blinks at Stiles a couple of times before saying, "I need more than that."

More.

Okay.

Stiles can do more.

"I know I mentioned bringing them to the opening with me," Stiles ignores the way Derek's lips thin at that. "But we both know what a horrible idea that was. That'll put a lot of pressure on you and me and our relationship that I don't really think we need or will know how to deal with. I know meeting them is a big step, but it doesn't feel right to me knowing practically everyone you care about when you only know Danny and Lydia. So I'd like you to meet them. Before the opening. Like, let's say, at dinner. Next weekend. At Danny's."

"Dinner," Derek repeats. "Next weekend."

"If you want to," Stiles amends. "I'd really like it if you did, but if you think it's too soon or the idea makes you uncomfortable, then we can think about introducing you to them some other time."

Derek stares at him for a few moments, a thoughtful on his face.

"Can we talk about this sitting down?"

"Sure," Stiles agrees quickly. "Couch?"

Derek nods and turns on his back as he walks to the living room, sitting back on the couch as he waits for Stiles to join him.

When he does, it's only to have Derek throw an arm around his shoulders and pull him closer.

Which Stiles doesn't really think it's a good idea right now.

All that naked skin touching his when he's supposed to be having an important conversation distracts him a little.

"Tell me about this dinner," Derek asks him, eyes intent on Stiles face.

Stiles gives him a quick rundown on how they do things, agreeing to meet on someone's place and having dinner whenever they're all off at the same time.

"Next week our schedules sync again, and it's Danny's turn to host," Stiles explains. "And the host can never pick what food we're eating, so we have another rotation for that. This time that falls to Allison, so we'll eat whatever she chooses, unless one of us has some kind of allergy. Like the time Jackson took us to that sushi place and Scott almost died because he didn't know he was not supposed to eat shrimp."

"And you want me to come with you," Derek says. "So I can meet all of them."

"Yes," Stiles nods promptly. "I do."

"Next weekend."

"Yes."

Derek takes a few more seconds just staring at him, before he sighs and says, "I- My problem was never- I'd like to meet them."

Stiles blinks at him, "And I'd like you to finish that sentence."

Derek gives him an unimpressed look before doing as Stiles asked, "My problem was never meeting them. I feel like you think this might be uncomfortable for me because of what- because of what happened with my family, and how it's difficult for me to bring people close to them. But I'd like to do that with you, with your friends, I'd like to get to know them, know the people that are important to you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then can I let everyone know they'll have an extra guest at dinner this time?"

"You can," Derek says, lips curling up.

Stiles gives him a small smile and closes the distance between them, hand coming to rest against the side of Derek's neck as he kisses him, lips moving dry and chaste against each other.

And then he pulls back, walking to his room to get his phone, and flops down on the couch next to Derek.

**To: Lydia**

_next weekend at dinner! try to contain your excitement_

**To: Scott**

_no worries dude she's not gonna bother you anymore. derek's coming to dinner w/ me next weekend_

**To: Danny**

_y_

**To: Allison**

_he'd like to meet you guys too! i'm bringing him with me next week :D_

**To: Jackson**

_dick_

"Done," Stiles grins at Derek, dropping his phone against his side. "I hope you like them."

"I think I will," Derek rubs their noses together. "They like you. It'd be hard not to like people with such obvious good taste."

Stiles bursts out laughing, head dropping to rest against Derek's bare shoulder as he feels Derek's smile pressing against the side of his head.

* * *

"I don't know why you had to take us hiking instead of doing _this_," Stiles says, spreading his arms wide and gesturing at the park in front of them.

"You mean you don't know why I had to take you out in the nature when you can fill your quota by spreading a blanket on the grass and talking about how much you love the outside," Derek raises an eyebrow and looks pointedly at the blanket folded over Stiles' arm.

"Exactly," Stiles smiles at him.

A smile that only widens when Derek rolls his eyes at him and the corners of his lips twitch up, both of them walking around the park in search for a spot so they can lie down and enjoy the warm afternoon.

Kind of cheesy, he knows.

It's a way for them to relax after the last couple of weeks full of sharing and communicating and having _feelings_.

You know, just so they can enjoy each other's company without the added pressure of needing to have a conversation about abusive ex-girlfriends.

Plus, Stiles has his iPod hidden in his pocket and a pair of earphones in case lying around in the sun starts to get boring.

"How about over there?" Derek asks, pointing at a nearby tree casting some shade on the grass, with no other people close to it.

"If I knew you'd pick the best spots, I would have suggested this sooner," Stiles says, pecking him on the cheek.

Derek helps Stiles spread the blanket over the grass, shaking his head with a fond expression on his face as Stiles promptly lies down on it and pats the empty space beside him.

Derek follows, lying down so their sides brush, fingers tangling with Stiles' own where their hands lay between them.

"This is nice," Stiles says after a while, thumb brushing against Derek's knuckles.

"You're bored, aren't you?" Derek asks, voice slow and quiet.

"Yes," Stiles sighs, turning on his side and propping himself on an elbow so he can look down at Derek.

And see the lazy smile he has on his lips, eyes almost shut, cheeks flushed red as the sun shines down on both of them.

"You're enjoying this," Stiles states, pressing his lips together when Derek makes an affirmative sound at the back of his throat. "Like, really enjoying this. Like laying around in the sun is the best thing you could ever think of doing all day."

"Like the sun," Derek slurs. "'s warm."

"Yes, it is," Stiles agrees, tone teasing. "And it's also bright."

"'s good."

"You're almost asleep, aren't you?"

Derek nods and makes that little sound again, eyes closing as he takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly through his nose, body relaxing completely.

"You're like a cat," Stiles says, bringing a hand up so he can brush his fingers through Derek's hair.

Who totally leans into it.

Like a _cat_.

"I feel like I should be filming this," Stiles muses out loud.

"No filming," Derek mumbles. "'s not nice."

"Not nice like the sun."

"Sun's okay," Derek tells him, raising a hand to pat half heartedly at Stiles stomach before dropping it limply by his side. "You're more okay."

"I glad you think so, big guy," Stiles smiles down at him. "You're not so bad yourself."

Derek hums in what could be offense for being _not so bad himself_ or _thank you_ for being called nice, rubbing his head back against Stiles' hand so he can start running his fingers through Derek's hair again.

He does that for a few minutes, thinking Derek has finally fallen asleep when he's breathing steadies and his eyes slide shut.

Until Derek turns his head in Stiles' direction and slurs, "Kisses."

Stiles blinks down at him, lips forming a smirk as he leans down and asks, "You want kisses?"

"Kisses," Derek says again, puckering his lips and waiting for Stiles to do as he's told.

Stiles laugh against Derek' mouth, swallowing Derek's own half smile with his lips and tongue.

He keeps it light, knowing they're in a public place and some people might not appreciate seeing two men making out on top of a blanket.

Even if they're really hot men.

If Stiles says so himself.

When he breaks the kiss is to Derek sighing contentedly and curling his fingers against Stiles' shirt, tugging him forward.

"Down," Derek says, using the other had to point to what could be the free space beside him or the entire expanse of the park.

Stiles can't help but remember the time he was concussed, letting his amused smile break out on his face knowing it's okay to grin because this time Derek's not injured.

He's just summer sun sleepy.

"Want me to lie down with you?"

Derek nods, pulling him down with a little more strength.

Not that it's enough to make Stiles move, Derek's limbs all warm and heavy and really not coordinated right now.

Stiles still does it, though, sliding down on the blanket until he can flop down by Derek's side, resting his head on Derek's shoulder and throwing a hand over his stomach.

"Sleep," Derek pats at his face, almost poking Stiles in the eye with a finger. "Sleep's good."

"Alright," Stiles presses his smile against the side of Derek's neck. "We'll sleep."

Derek takes that as permission to sigh heavily before letting his body relax completely, and Stiles knows that a few seconds later he's asleep.

Dead to the world.

Not even waking when a dog passes by, barking at its owner.

And Stiles is finding hard to keep his eyes open himself, grabbing his phone from his pocket and setting the alarm for a couple of hours so they can make sure to be awake when the sun's still up.

He falls asleep like that, warmed by the sun, Derek's scent on his nose, and a small smile curled on his lips.

And wakes up about an hour and a half later to the feeling of being watched.

"Don't be creepy," Stiles mumbles against Derek's-

That's not Derek's shoulder.

He opens his eyes to see he has his face smashed against Derek's stomach, the arm that was thrown over Derek's belly now firmly placed on his hip, Stiles' hand clutching at the fabric of Derek's shirt on his back.

"This is not how I started," Stiles points out, but making no move to either slide or sit up.

"No, it isn't," Derek says, hand a warm weight against the back of Stiles' neck.

Stiles can practically hear the grin in his voice.

"Still comfortable, though," Stiles says, making his point by nuzzling Derek's shirt.

"Glad you think so."

Stiles makes an agreeable sound at the back of his throat and closes his eyes again, "How long can I stay like this before we have to go?"

"It depends on whether you want to go grocery shopping before or after it gets dark."

"'fore."

"Then we have half an hour."

"'kay," Stiles says, arching his neck so Derek's hand moves. "You can play with my hair if you wanna."

Stiles knows he's not being subtle.

He never is when it comes to snuggling or having Derek's nails scratching at his scalp until he's all relaxed and it's too much of an effort to move.

They stay like that for half an hour, Stiles pretending to be asleep and Derek letting him.

Until he does an ab curl and gets his teeth on the shell of Stiles' ear to wake him up.

What he gets instead is a full body shudder and Stiles swearing under his breath as he sits up like he's been shocked.

Derek is staring at him with his eyebrows raised, eyes glinting, and lips tight as if he's trying not to laugh.

"Shut up," Stiles grumbles, getting up and pushing Derek off the blanket with the toe of his shoe.

"Your ears," Derek says, taking the hint and helping Stiles with the blanket. "Really? That's what does it for you?"

Stiles purses his lips together and tries to will away the blush already starting on his cheeks, "So?"

"Nothing," Derek shakes his head, taking Stiles' hand in his as they walk through the park and to Stiles' Jeep. "It's just good to know, I guess."

Stiles eyes him warily through the corner of his eyes, shrugging one shoulder, "As long as you don't use that knowledge in public."

"Do we run the risk of getting arrested if I do?"

"Yep," Stiles says, popping the 'p'. "We most definitely do."

Stiles doesn't think he needs to tell Derek that biting his ear is like a direct line to his dick.

And that it drives him absolutely fucking _crazy_.

Climbing someone like a tree and taking their clothes off as fast as humanly possible kind of crazy crazy.

The kind that doesn't even care if they're at home or in their car or lying on a blanket in a park.

Stiles is actually kind of proud of himself from not crowding Derek against a tree and rutting against his leg until he came.

Derek squeezes his hand, "I'll try not to, then."

Stiles throws the blanket on the back seat of the Jeep as he waits for Derek to close the door, "What do we need to buy?"

"I have a list," Derek tells him, sticking a hand into his back pocket and pulling it out as Stiles drives off.

Of course he does.

"And what's on that list?"

"Things to make Taco Sandwiches," Derek says lightly, smirking when he hears Stiles' gasp.

"_Taco Sandwiches_?"

"Taco Sandwiches."

"But I know how to make Taco Sandwiches," Stiles frowns at the road in front of him.

"I know," Derek tells him. "I figured I could give you some time off from the kitchen and make you something."

Stiles glances at him, lips tugged up in a half smile, "That's sweet."

"I'm known for my sweetness," Derek deadpans.

Stiles snorts, shaking his head, "You're known for you surliness. And incredible good looks. And for having the best taste in boyfriends, if I do say so myself."

"I don't know why I like you, really."

"It's cos I'm awesome, boo," Stiles one hand off the steering wheel so he can pat Derek on the cheek.

Only he ends up patting him somewhere between his jaw and neck.

Still, it gets his point across.

"Don't ever call me boo again," Derek narrows his eyes at him, poking him in the ribs.

Stiles yelps, but grins and keeps on driving.

* * *

**a/n: **the emotional abuse is touched right at the beginning of this chapter, when stiles is thinking over about his relationship with derek and derek's actions and reactions on certain things, and the knowledge he has about it coming from mrs. mccall past relationship with scott's dad.

the emotional manipulation is mentioned when stiles and derek are cooking and derek starts talking about an ex-girlfriend who used him to get to his mother, and to get a better job position.


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n: **super important note at the end, please read!

* * *

"Did you get the bread?"

"Yes, dear," Stiles bats his lashes at Derek, pushing the cart.

"Cream cheese?"

"Yep."

"Taco seasoning?"

"Yes," Stiles nods. "And I still have salsa, lettuce, and tomato at home."

"So we have to get the ground beef and the cheddar cheese."

"And ice cream."

"And ice-," Derek cuts off, raising an eyebrow at Stiles. "You still have half a pint in your freezer. We don't need ice cream."

Stiles turns to him and pouts.

And promptly crashes his cart into somebody else's.

"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was- Oh. Hi, Isaac."

"Hey, Stiles," Isaac tilts his chin in at him, eyes going to Derek. "There's no food in your house."

"You mean you and Cora ate it all," Derek glares at him.

"I resent that," Cora says as she walks up behind Stiles and Derek and dumps about six bags of chips in their cart. "If we didn't eat it, it'd go to waste. It's not like you're at home a lot these days to do it yourself."

"That's because Stiles' apartment is nicer."

"Thank you?" Stiles frowns at him. "But I'm sure your place is-"

Stiles stops, thinking.

You know, about how he's never been to Derek's place.

Ever.

In over the two and a half months they've been dating.

His frown deepens.

Derek seems to notice, because he turns his attention completely to Stiles, coming to stand in front of him and blocking Cora and Isaac's view of his face.

"I've never asked you over before because Isaac and Cora are always there, and I didn't know if the lack of privacy would be a problem for you," Derek tells him, voice low so only Stiles can hear. "But if you want to come over instead of going back to your place, then I can make dinner there."

"Is that really the reason?" Stiles asks, not really liking that he has to.

"Yes," Derek breathes out. "I know you don't share your apartment with anyone, when it's almost a given that if we ever go to mine, someone will be there. I just didn't really- I didn't really think you'd want that."

"How about we make a deal on never assuming things about each other?" Stiles suggest, licking his lips. "Because you know what they say."

"I do," Derek's lips twitch. "And really, if you want to come over now, I'm sure Isaac and Cora will be happy to know I'm cooking for them."

Stiles blinks at Derek.

"You'd be okay with them having dinner with us?"

Stiles can see Derek swallowing, the minute glance to the ground as he says, "I want you to get to know them because they're an important part of my life. But so are you. It'd be okay if you all got along."

"Only okay?" Stiles teases, lying his hand flat against Derek's chest.

"Maybe even great," Derek shrugs, trying to sound casual.

Stiles chuckles and places a kiss on the corner of Derek's mouth, pushing him back to his side as he turns to Isaac and Cora, who both have their arms crossed over their chests and expectant looks on their faces.

"Are you two done discussing your relationship in the middle of the grocery store?" Cora asks, sounding bored.

"Just because of that I'm hiding red peppers in your sandwich," Derek threatens, smiling smugly when Cora looks at him like he just killed her kitten.

Stiles hides his smile by ducking his head and pretending to look at things on their cart.

"Does that mean you're making us a sandwich?" Isaac asks hopefully, and when Stiles glances up at him is to see puppy dog eyes that rival Scott's.

"Yes," Derek says, running a hand through his head and looking at Stiles, expression softening. "Stiles is coming over."

"Finally," Cora throws her arms up. "If I knew bumping into you while shopping for food would have gotten you to do that, I would have done this a lot sooner."

"Three words," Derek points a finger at her.

"Shut. Up. Cora?" Cora counts on her fingers, smiling sweetly at Derek.

Who just lets his own lips curl into a self-satisfied smile as he says, "Avocado ranch sauce."

"You wouldn't," Cora gasps.

"Try me," Derek narrows his eyes at her, voice coming low and with the hint of a growl.

Stiles starts looking around in a desperate attempt not to crowd Derek against one of the shelves and kiss him stupid.

"It's always so nice spending time with the Hales," Isaac says dreamily, catching Stiles' eye and winking at him. "It's obvious how much they love each other."

Cora and Derek turn the force of their glares at Isaac, who just stands there, looking relaxed, with a smile on his face.

Stiles just blinks at all of them and wonders what he got himself into when he started dating Derek.

He then remembers he doesn't care.

Because _Derek_.

And now it's not the time to get mushy.

Especially when one of Derek's sisters is near.

And they have groceries to buy.

"We're gonna have to buy more food," Stiles says loudly, fighting a flinch when everyone's gaze snaps to him. "If we're all going to have dinner together."

"We are," Derek sighs, looking back down at his list with a frown.

"And," Stiles drawls out, lips stretching into a grin. "We're gonna have to buy ice cream."

Derek gives him a long and heavy look before saying, "I'm picking the flavor."

"Okay," Stiles nods. "And you're picking mint chocolate flavored ice cream."

Derek gives him another one of those looks, lips thinning and eyes turning into slits.

Stiles smiles.

Derek sighs and says, "I'm picking mint chocolate flavored ice cream."

Stiles thinks he can hear Isaac muttering, "Whipped," under his breath.

And he expertly chooses not to say anything when Cora looks at her boyfriend and says, "Can you go grab tampons for me? I have to make sure Derek doesn't buy anything disgusting."

Isaac just nods, places a kiss on her temple, and walks away.

Who's whipped _now_?

"I wish mom left you in the hospital when you were born," Derek tells Cora when she grabs her cart and turns to them.

He's lying.

Stiles can tell by the way his nostril flare a little when he says it.

Cora must be able to, too, because she just gives him a hard look before saying, "Are we going to do this or not? Because I'm getting hungry."

"You're such a brat."

"And I'm so glad I don't have any siblings," Stiles remarks, both Hales looking at him and making a face. "Really. I don't think I could deal with the amount of love I'm seeing from you two."

Stiles gets the double Hale Bitch Face for his joke.

He counts it as a success, because at least now they're not bickering anymore and actually walking in the direction of the ground beef they'll need for dinner.

"We'll have to get more of everything, won't we?" Stiles asks Derek, eyeing the contents of their cart.

"Probably," Derek says, fingers scratching at his stubble as he considers. "We can make Cora and Isaac pay for half of it, though."

"Dream on, big brother," Cora calls out, smirking when Derek scowls at her.

Isaac comes back with Cora's tampons in hand, dropping it on their cart, and then clasping his hands before turning to Derek and asking, "What do you need?"

Derek opens his mouth only to snap it just and hand Isaac the grocery list, telling him about what he and Stiles already picked out and what they still need.

Isaac nods and tilts his head so they can follow, which they do without comment.

Aside from Stiles leaning in to whispers against Derek's ear, "Why does it look like Isaac's on a mission?"

Derek's expression darkens, one of his hands coming to rest against Stiles arm so he'll slow down their walking and let Cora and Isaac up front.

"Isaac's father was an asshole," Derek says bluntly, voice hard. "An abusive one. Groceries was one of Isaac's many chores at the house, and he learned early not to take too long at the store and get things done quickly. It's an habit he didn't break, one I think he never will."

Stiles swallows hard as he stares at Isaac's back, taking in the set of his shoulder and quick steps and feeling a little sick to his stomach.

"What happened to him? Isaac's dad?"

"Car crash," Derek tells him. "Isaac was sixteen. He and Cora were in the same class, and when Cora found out about what was going on with him after his father died and she told mom, mom pulled some strings so he could come live with us."

"They've been together since they were in high school?"

Derek shakes his head, "Isaac wasn't- His head wasn't really in the right place for a really long time after that. It took a lot of time and effort on our part to make him realize we wouldn't let anything bad happen to him ever again. He and Cora actually only started dating after they had a huge fight and Cora called him a self-sacrificing idiot."

"For sacrificing his happiness because he thought he didn't deserve it?" Stiles fills in.

"Yep," Derek nods, and then wrinkles his nose. "He kissed her right then and there. It was disgusting."

Stiles lets out a surprised laugh and grins up at Derek, wiggling his eyebrows as he says, "How do you feel about payback?"

"I like the way you think," Derek pitches his voice lower, leaning into Stiles' space.

Stiles is the one who closes the distance between them, giving Derek a quick kiss and nipping at his bottom lip before pulling back.

Only to find Cora staring back at them with a pinched look on her face.

"You two are gross."

"It's not my fault your brother's so hot I can't keep my hands off of him," Stiles bats his lashes at her, lips forming a smirk when she makes fake gagging sounds.

And when he looks back at Derek is to find him trying to hide an embarrassed smile, not that it does any good when all Stiles can see is the blush going from the tips of his ears to the back of his neck.

Stiles leans in and presses a kiss to the flushed skin, grinning when Derek turns to him and bumps their shoulders together.

They go back to shopping, following Isaac around on the store with both of their carts, Stiles torn between being happy about grocery shopping finally not taking a ridiculous amount of time and feeling sad about the reason why that is.

Derek makes Isaac and Cora pay for half the ingredients that are going to be used on dinner, _and_ makes Stiles pay for the extra ice cream pint.

"But-" Stiles tries to protest, stopping and pouting when Derek just raises his eyebrows at him and doesn't say anything. "Alright, I'll pay for it."

Isaac and Cora follow them back to the parking lot, groceries in hand, stopping by a black Toyota and yelling out they'll see them at home.

Derek and Stiles continue towards the Jeep a few parking spaces ahead, Stiles with his brows furrowed as he glances back at the couple a few times.

"I thought everyone in your family drove bikes," Stiles says. "And that Laura had the Camaro."

"They do," Derek says, taking one of the bags from Stiles so he can open the Jeep and they can start loading the groceries inside. "That's- The Toyota- We used it whenever we have to go somewhere it's not practical to use the bike. It's mine. The car."

Stiles' mouth drops open, eyes widen as he stares from Derek to the car and back to Derek again.

"You drive a _soccer mom car_?" Stiles almost shrieks, flailing an arm.

Derek huffs, shifting the bag in his arms so he can get a better grip and avoiding Stiles' gaze as he says, "It's safe."

And Stiles is about to open his mouth to say something else equally mocking when he remembers how Derek's father died.

So he snaps it back shut and walks up to him, leaning closer so he can rubs their noses together.

"It's a very cute car," Stiles says, teasing.

"For a mom?" Derek fills in.

"Yep," Stiles nods, pecking him on the lips before smacking him in the ass and saying, "Let's put these groceries away."

Derek jumps forward when Stiles' hand connects to his ass, glaring when Stiles just smiles sweetly at him and start taking the bags from him and loading them in the car.

"I'll need directions," Stiles says once they've climbed in. "To your secret hideout."

Derek rolls his eyes at him and tells him where to drive to, turning on the radio and flicking the stations until he settles on something to listen to.

They drive around in silence, Stiles getting positively more and more excited the closer they get to where Derek must live.

He doesn't really know what is he's expecting Derek's place to look like, but what appears to be an abandoned building comes as a little bit of a surprise.

Stiles just blinks at the place a couple of times before killing the ignition and turning to Derek, who's already out of the Jeep and getting the groceries.

Stiles worries at his bottom lip as he helps him, still quiet when they get into an elevator and start going up to Derek's floor, not saying anything as Derek slides the heavy metal door open and steps inside.

Stiles blinks.

And blinks some more.

Because Derek's loft is kind of...

_Empty_.

Of furniture.

Not boxes.

There are a lot of boxes stacked close to the walls and piled on top of each other.

Stiles looks around, taking in the _big empty space_ of the place where Derek lives and not really knowing what to do about it.

He can see a wooden table and a couple of chairs close to the big window further into the loft, close to the spiral staircase that hopefully leads to somewhere with _stuff_ and _things_, and the-

"Is that a _bed_?" Stiles says loudly, mouth slack as he sees the perfectly positioned bed in_ the middle of the fucking room_, navy sheets and cover spread and fluffy pillows and all.

No one answers him, because Derek's long gone to the kitchen and Isaac and Cora are nowhere to be seen.

Stiles follows the noise of plastic bags and stuff being moved to find Derek, seeing that at least his kitchen appears to be really well stocked.

With _stuff_ and_ furniture_.

"Why do you have a bed in the middle of your living room?"

"Hm?" Derek looks up absentmindedly at him, putting food away and not answering the question.

Stiles doesn't really think Derek heard him.

"Why do you have a bed in the middle of your living room?" he asks again, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking back on his heels.

"Oh," Derek blinks, and shrugs. "My room was on the top floor, but I decided to give it to Isaac and Cora when they moved in. They needed privacy, I didn't, not at the time. Figured it was best. Most of the stuff I have like furniture and things are all still up there, since this was supposed to be _for only a week or two_."

The last part is said mockingly, Stiles having no doubt Derek is repeating something Isaac or Cora said to him more than once.

And all his worries about Derek living in a place where it looked like he didn't plan on staying long fly out the window.

And his heart melts a little in his chest.

Because Derek gave up his room and privacy and things so Isaac and Cora could have somewhere comfortable for them to live in.

"You didn't really think I lived in a place with only a bed and a table, did you?"

"Not really?" Stiles winces, smiling sheepishly when Derek huffs at him.

"I don't," Derek tells him. "I got this place when living at the house got to be too much for me. I never planned on staying here long, but then Isaac and Cora wanted a place to stay and they kind of..."

"_Stayed_?" Stiles offers. "For_ever_?"

"Yes," Derek breathes out, shaking his head a little, expression soft. "I thought about leaving them the loft and getting a place for myself, but-"

Derek trails off, shrugging.

Also, not really looking at Stiles in the eye.

"But there really wasn't a reason to?" Stiles tries, licking his lips.

"Yeah," Derek says, clears his throat. "I didn't really need- There's was no- The privacy, it wasn't something I had to consider. Not then."

"And now?"

"Now things are different," Derek tells him, looking up straight into Stiles' eyes. "Now I have a reason to find something better than this."

Stiles presses his lips together and nods, coming up to Derek and winding his arms around his waist, pulling him close, tucking his chin over Derek's shoulder.

"If finding a new place is something you're seriously thinking about, then I can help you," Stiles says, and then adds, "Look for a place, meet with realtors, whatever you need."

"I'd like that," Derek says, hand at the back of Stiles' neck, thumb pressing against the spot behind his ear. "I'd really like that."

"I thought you were cooking dinner," Cora spares a glance at them as she walks into the kitchen. "Not making out in the middle of the kitchen."

Derek narrows his eyes at her, looking back at Stiles and-

Stiles swallows hard.

Because that's a grin on Derek's face.

A _wolfish_ one.

Full of teeth and danger and _hot as fuck_.

"Hey, Cora," Derek calls out, eyes glued to Stiles' as he keeps grinning. "That wasn't making out. But this?"

And then Derek's slotting their lips together, licking past the seam of Stiles' lips and into his mouth, kissing him hot and wet and deep and _dirty_, and all Stiles can do is grab at Derek's hips and _hold the fuck on_.

He's vaguely aware of Cora swearing at them as she walks away, something about _fucking Derek_ and_ I didn't come live here for this_ and_ I need to bleach my brain_.

He doesn't really give a fuck.

Not when Derek keeps on kissing him, even after she's gone and they can't hear her curse anymore.

Derek pulls back with a slick sound, lips red and swollen and shiny with spit, breathing hard.

Stiles feels a little dazed.

He thinks he might also look a little dazed, if the way he has to blink a couple of times before he regains control of his own limbs and manages to unclench his fingers from where they're squeezing bruises on Derek's hips.

"Hi," Stiles rasps out, still feeling a little glassy-eyed.

"Hey," Derek breathes against his lips, hands still cupping Stiles' face.

"That was-," Stiles clears his throat. "I- We should do that more often. Not kiss in front of your sister but, you know, kiss like that. Preferably without an audience at all, actually. Yep."

Derek looks at him for a beat or two without saying anything, eyes raking over Stiles' face as if looking for something. He must find whatever it is that he's looking for, before his entire expression softens and he nods, just once, and steps away.

Stiles clears his throat, "So, do you need help with anything?"

"Not really," Derek says, opening and closing cabinets and gathering the stuff he'll need to make the sandwiches. "And the rule about not jumping me while I'm handling knives still stands."

Stiles eyes the bread knife Derek is currently waving around and nods once, lips curling up, "Wouldn't want you to cut off something important."

"Or ruin our food," Derek says dryly, grabbing a large skillet and starting on the ground beef.

Stiles hears footsteps before he sees Isaac step into the kitchen, eyes going from Derek to Stiles and back again before he shrugs and opens the fridge.

"Cora said you two tried to traumatize her," he remarks as he grabs a can of soda, closes the door, and leans against it.

"And I hope we succeeded," Stiles tells him, earning a chuckle from Derek.

Isaac looks a little taken aback by Stiles' words before he groans and thumps his head against the fridge, "This is payback for the stairs, isn't it?"

Stiles has no idea what he's talking about.

Which is why Derek answers, "And for the living room table. And the couch. And _the balcony_."

Stiles blinks at them, still at loss.

"It's not like anyone could sees us from there," Isaac throws one arm up, the other cradled to his chest as he holds his drink. "And the living room table is actually a pretty decent height to fu-"

"Oh my _god_," Stiles says loudly, at the same time Derek throws a bunched up dishcloth at Isaac's face. "I thought you were kidding when you said they had sex _everywhere_."

Isaac looks offended, while Derek looks like he can't believe this is his life and he wants out, _now_.

"It's not _everywhere_," Isaac protests, one hand gesturing around the kitchen. "We never had sex _here_."

"That's because you know I wouldn't hesitate to cut your dick off and fry it if I found out you defiled my kitchen," Derek snaps at him.

Stiles barks out a surprised laugh that quickly dies when Derek glares at him, "Sorry. It's just- Who says _defiled my kitchen_?"

"Your boyfriend," Isaac deadpans. "Congratulations."

Derek is now looking down at the floor, and both Stiles and Isaac notice the change for what it is.

Stiles can actually see Isaac's look of surprise when Stiles immediately walks up to Derek and throws an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close.

"Thank you, Isaac," Stiles beams at him. "I think he's great, too. In fact, I think you're jealous you don't have a boyfriend as great as mine."

Isaac's lips twitch, and so do Derek's, but neither of them make a move to acknowledge it.

"I think you're wrong," Isaac drawls out, smirking. "Because you see, I have his sis-"

"I hope you don't plan on finishing that sentence, Lahey," Cora threatens as she steps into the kitchen and hips checks him so she can get to the fridge.

"I would never," Isaac smiles softly at her, his whole face changing.

Stiles can't really help but smile at them both, at what they have.

And then he feels Derek's breath on his cheek and he turns his head just in time for Derek to brush their lips together, close-mouthed and chase.

"You really are great," Stiles says, turning so they're chest to chest, one of his arms still around Derek's neck. "Greater than great. The greatest."

Derek smiles fondly at him before kissing him one more time, stepping back so he can check on the ground beef and start on other things.

"Hey, Stiles," Isaac calls him. "Why don't you help me grab some chairs so we can sit here and annoy Derek while he cooks?"

Derek shakes his head, muttering something under his breath Stiles has no doubt are curses, while Cora eyes them both suspiciously. She actually opens her mouth to say something, but the minute shake of Isaac's head makes her change her mind.

"As long as I get the best seat on the house," Stiles plays along, following Isaac into the living room.

Isaac doesn't say anything until they're out of earshot, turning to Stiles with a somber expression and arms crossed over his chest.

"He told you."

Isaac doesn't it like an accusation, just stating a fact, the mere hint of surprise still showing in his tone.

Stiles shakes his head, "He told me some things. About-"

"His ex."

"Yes. But not everything. Not near enough everything, I think."

"Do you know what that means? Him telling you, even if it was just a little part of it?"

Stiles looks at Isaac and nods, because he does know.

He knows how fucking hard it is for Derek to let people close to him, to open up, to share his life and family and friends with someone else.

He knows how much it means, and he knows how much _he_ means to Derek for him to want to take that chance.

"Yeah, I know."

"Good. So you'll understand when I tell you that if you hurt him, I'll come after you and I'll hurt _you_."

Stiles blinks, face breaking into a smile as he takes in Isaac's threat.

Stiles clasps him on the shoulder, "And I would let you."

It's Isaac's turn to smile at him, tilting his head so each of them grabs two chairs and bring them back to the kitchen.

Derek is beating cream cheese and salsa in a mixing bowl, barely looking up from what he's doing as he says, "Are you satisfied?"

"Yes," Isaac grins at him, patting Derek on the back when he walks by him. "Yes, I am. And I have to say, Derek, you picked a good one."

Derek looks almost surprised at that, eyebrows climbing up as stops what he's doing and stares at Isaac.

Only to direct his gaze to Stiles and smile that small private smile as he nods, "Yeah, I did."

Stiles blushes, teeth coming down to clamp at his bottom lip so he keeps himself from smiling, settling for leaving their chairs near the counter and coming up behind Derek to snake his arms around his middle, nuzzling at the back of Derek's neck.

He can see over Derek's shoulder Isaac whispering something at Cora, who has her eyes glued to Stiles.

He sees her eyes widen a little, expression open and incredulous before she schools it back into something serious and almost blank.

He sees her catching his eye, and nodding, and offering him a tentative smile.

He gives her one in return, squeezing Derek one more time before letting go and flopping down on his chair.

"So, how long's it gonna take for us to get some food around here?"

His tone is teasing and it serves to put them all at ease, Cora joining in right away with a comment of her own, "Yeah, big brother, we're all hungry here."

"Fucking hell," Derek curses, throwing his arms up. "If you're so desperate, then you can help."

Derek promptly drops the mixing bowl on Stiles' lap, pushing his chair until he's practically glued to the counter, a tray with about six pieces of bread cut in half and hollowed out.

"You," Derek points a finger at him, the bowl, and the breads. "Spread the mix inside the bread and set it aside."

He then directs his gaze to Isaac and Cora, who are trying to make themselves smaller.

"You two," he snaps, both of them jumping in place and pushing their chairs until they're sitting near Stiles. "After Stiles is done with that, you layer only the _bottom half_ with lettuce and tomato."

Stiles presses his lips and widens his eyes when Isaac and Cora look at him, mouthing _what the fuck_ when they just stare back.

They both shake their heads at him, Cora mouthing _just do what he says_ and Isaac whispering _he's crazy when he's like this_.

"I don't hear the sound of you working," Derek announces, back turned to them as he drains the beef and stirs in the taco seasoning.

Stiles starts spreading cream cheese inside the bread shells, handing them off to Isaac and Cora when he's finished.

They leave the top halves of bread on the tray, which Derek scoots up and starts layering it with beef mix mixture and cheese.

When he's done he lays the tray back on the counter, Isaac closing the sandwiches as Cora starts picking things up and putting them away or in the sink, and Stiles stares around without really knowing what to do.

"What just happened?" he mumbles under his breath.

Isaac leans in closer so he can whisper, "Derek can be a little touchy when it comes to cooking."

"And people being around him in the kitchen," Cora says as she passes them, voice low.

"And having them nag at me about taking too long when they aren't doing anything to help," Derek butts in, making the three of them yelp.

Derek gives them his best unimpressed look and a twitch of his eyebrows.

"I'll grab the chips," Cora announces.

"The drinks," Isaac raises a hand.

And as soon as they do just that, they're both out of the kitchen.

Which just leaves Stiles alone with Derek, who's looking at him with eyes glinting in amusement and as if daring him to say something about how he runs his kitchen.

Stiles, of course, _fucking dares_.

And blurts out, "You're so sexy when you're bossing people around."

Derek does that thing where he chokes on nothing and starts blushing, Stiles pushing his chair back and getting up and throwing his arms around Derek's neck, "So sexy."

"_Stiles_," Derek hisses, trying to sound put out but still resting his hands on Stiles' hips.

"So, so sexy," Stiles whispers against his lips, lips forming a smirk.

"You already said that," Derek tells him, voice low.

"And I'll keep doing it until you shut me up," Stiles says, licking his lips. "Or kiss me."

Derek huffs and obliges, closing the distance between them and biting down at Stiles' lower lip, sucking it into his mouth and sighing contentedly when Stiles opens up and presses the tip of his tongue against his lips, asking for entrance.

Which Derek quickly gives.

That is until, "Stop making out and bring us our food!"

Stiles pulls back and groans, head dropping to rest against Derek's shoulder.

"See?" Derek pokes him in the ribs. "This is why I never invited you over."

And later when they're eating Taco Sandwiches while sitting on the floor and Cora kicks out a glass when Isaac sucks a hickey into her neck and Stiles gets his pants wet with soda, he can totally understand why.

* * *

"So," the Sheriff side-eyes him as Stiles sits down on the kitchen table and takes a big gulp from his coffee. "When are you going to bring your boyfriend for dinner and officially introduce us?"

Stiles almost chokes.

Really, it's a near thing.

The only reason he doesn't is because he still has the mug on his lips and he can spit the coffee back on it.

It's been two days since the dinner at Derek's loft, and four days until the dinner at Danny's, and Stiles really doesn't need this right now.

"Do we have to?" Stiles sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I'm taking him to dinner at Danny's on Saturday to meet everyone. I think I should wait until he gets over _that_ before I bring the subject of Weekly Dinners up."

He's been with Derek for almost three months now, known him for almost six, so even though he's asking his father for a little more time, he knows it's time for them to meet.

Past it, actually.

His Dad appears to agree, by the way his expression closes off a little as he stares at Stiles.

"Now, son-"

"I know, I know," Stiles raises a hand to stop him, grateful when his dad lets him. "I'll bring him, definitely. I want him to meet you guys, but I just think springing that on him so soon after what's going to happen Saturday is not one of the best ideas."

The Sheriff stares at him some more before he nods, face clearing as he says, "As long as I meet him sometime this month."

"You will," Stiles nods, relieved. "You definitely will."

"Good," his dad says, lips twitching. "Because it's been a while since the last time I got to threaten one of your boyfriends or girlfriends."

Stiles rolls his eyes at him, and then stops, thinking over what his dad just said.

And over what happened with Allison when she first came to dinner with Scott.

And then over the little he knows about Derek's last relationship.

He doesn't know what kind of things might trigger Derek, but considering the way he's always so hesitant and apologetic when he does something and thinks it might have upset someone, especially Stiles, Stiles doesn't think having his dad,_ the Sheriff_, threatening him might be a good idea.

"You have your serious face on," his dad frowns, breaking Stiles from his thoughts. "Talk to me."

"I don't-," Stiles bites down on his bottom lip. "I don't know if I can talk to you about it."

"Is something wrong?" the Sheriff asks, instantly going into worried parent mode. "Are you in some kind of trouble? Did Derek-"

"No, dad," Stiles interrupts him, shaking his head, running his fingers through his hair. "Derek didn't do anything. But it does have something to do with him. I just don't know how he'd feel if I told _you_ about it."

His dad blinks, "You started thinking about something when I said I missed threatening people."

Stiles presses his lips together, knowing his dad is doing his thing and trying to figure out what it is without Stiles saying anything.

Sometimes having a cop for a dad pays off.

They're better at charades than one would ever think possible.

"Is this because you're afraid Derek won't stay if I do?"

Stiles opens and closes his mouth, because that has something to do with it, but not in the way his dad is thinking.

He thinks Derek might not want to stay because something his dad might say could trigger him, and that could make him want to push Stiles away.

Stiles tells his dad as much, and that's why he sees the shutter coming down on his eyes and his expression blanking.

"You said_ trigger him_," the Sheriff says, voice flat. "That's an important choice of words you used there."

Stiles nods, because he knows it is.

He also pointedly looks at the picture of the Sheriff and Mrs. McCall on the fridge.

His dad doesn't miss it.

And Stiles doesn't miss the way his expression hardens before it softens again and he nods, just once.

Stiles knows he gets it.

He wishes he didn't, but he does.

And he knows his dad is thinking the same thing right now.

That he wished the person Stiles cared about hadn't gone through that.

"Tell me when you think it's okay to bring him over," his dad says, resting a hand on Stiles' shoulder and squeezing. "I'll ask Melissa to make her Rice Stuffed Chicken and Apple Crumb Pie."

"Thanks, Dad," Stiles offers him a smile, patting the back of his hand. "I'll talk to him."

"You know you can always come to me, right?" his dad says, giving him a significant look. "If you ever want to talk about things. Anything."

"I do," Stiles nods. "Love you, Dad."

"Love you too, son," his dad smiles at him, and then looks down at Stiles' mug. "You done with your coffee?"

"You giving me a ride to work?" Stiles blinks at him hopefully.

That way he'll have an excuse to ask Derek to pick him up.

And that way he'll be able to convince him to come upstairs to his apartment and make out.

And hopefully take things a little bit further than that, if Derek's comfortable with it.

"If you keep your hands off the police scanner," his dad gives him a pointed look.

"I make no promises," Stiles says lightly, smiling when his dad just gives him a tired sigh and a roll of his eyes.

"Let's go, then," the Sheriff says, getting up and putting his dirty dishes in the sink. "I still have to pick up Melissa from work."

"And _gossip_," Stiles pipes up.

"If you think we are not going to talk about our little bundles of joy and how, even after all these years, they still keep getting themselves in over their own heads, you are mistaken."

"And if you think getting rid of contractions in all of your sentences makes your argument any more legitimate,_ you are wrong_."

"Brat," the Sheriff swats at his head.

"I don't know why I love you," Stiles huffs, ducking his head.

"It's because I give you rides to work."

"That might have something to do with it, yes."

The Sheriff snorts.

Stiles grins.

He really can't help having the best dad in the world.

* * *

"Derek's coming to dinner tomorrow, right?" Danny asks him as they drive back to the firehouse.

This call wasn't a bad one, thankfully.

Just another woman's water breaking in the middle of the bank.

No biggie.

"Yes, he is," Stiles nods, noticing the way Danny's entire body relaxes when Stiles confirms it.

"Good," Danny nods. "That's good."

"Nervous about bringing Ethan?"

"You have no idea," Danny tells him. "It's like I can see all the yoga jokes Jackson is going to make."

Stiles snorts.

Danny glares, and then smirks, "And all the _riding_ and mechanic jokes he'll make about _you_."

"I hate you," Stiles punches him on the shoulder.

"No hitting the driver," Danny yells, laughing.

"That's a stupid rule."

"Jackson's jokes are the ones that are stupid," Danny sighs. "Seriously, I can already _fucking see it_, and I don't like any of it."

"Hey. Don't worry about it. I'll be right there with you, bringing my new boyfriend along so our friends can judge him and tell him embarrassing stories about me. You won't be alone in this."

"Thanks," Danny says dryly. "That helps a lot."

"You're welcome," Stiles says seriously. "And if it makes you feel better, I'll threaten everyone with bodily harm if they so much as_ think_ about telling Ethan about that time with the purple body paint and glitter."

Stiles thinks that look on Danny's eyes could be classified as_ murder_.

He just smiles sweetly and pokes him in the cheek.

Danny tries to bite his finger off.

"Seriously, though," Stiles says, patting him on the arm. "I'm here, buddy. And I'm sure Ethan will appreciate having another person there who's just as new as this as he is."

Danny nods this time, lips curling up, "Remind me to thank Derek when I meet him."

"I will," Stiles nods. "And I can't wait to meet Ethan. I can see how important he is to you, and I'm sure we'll all like him."

"You know that doesn't really help," Danny raises an eyebrow at him.

Stiles makes a face at him, "It's better than nothing. And I'm trying here, I don't see you pep talking me out of my nerves about Derek meeting all of you."

"That's because Lydia met him when he was dressed as a _bunny_," Danny points out. "And I met him when he was_ concussed_ and going on and on about how you had the nicest face. Everything will be a step up from that."

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times before blinking at Danny, "You kind of have a point."

"I know."

"And that kind of really helps me calm down."

"I know."

"Thank you, Danny."

"You're welcome, Stiles."

They park at the firehouse and climb off the ambulance, walking inside the station and finding Scott and Jackson playing one of their many card games on the kitchen table.

"Did Danny talk you down from freaking out about Derek coming over tomorrow?" Scott asks him as soon as Stiles pulls up a chair beside him and sits down.

"It's creepy how well you know me," Stiles remarks. "But yes, he did."

"Good," Scott nods. "That means I don't have to do it."

"The love, Scott," Stiles deadpans. "I'm drowning in it."

Scott just grins at him, and then his expression turns serious as he says, "But seriously, dude. You don't have anything to worry about. You're the happiest I've seen you in a really long time, and I know it has something to do with Derek. We all do. So you can stop freaking out about us being inappropriate or trying to intimidate him, because we'd never put your happiness at risk that way," and then he adds, "Unless he's a dick, then I make no promises."

Stiles snorts shaking his head and grinning at his best friend, "He's not a dick. And thanks, it means a lot. And you know I always have to worry about you being inappropriate."

"That's not true," Scott frowns.

Just as Jackson says, "So what you're saying is that he's the asshole in the relationship?"

And then yelps.

Because Danny elbows him in the ribs.

Stiles gives Scott a pointed look.

And makes a mental note to keep Erica away from Jackson at all costs.

"See what I mean?"

Scott makes a face at him, and then turns to scowl at Jackson and, judging by the way he hisses, kick him under the table.

"Don't forget your best friend is bringing someone too."

Jackson face sours at that, glancing at Danny from the corner of his eye.

Danny just sighs a long suffering sigh and throws an arm around Jackson's shoulder.

Stiles will never understand their friendship.

"Yes, Jackson," Danny tells him, and then narrows his eyes. "And you better be nice."

"I'm always nice," Jackson says, radiating smugness.

Stiles can see the grip Danny has on Jackson's shoulder tighten, so much so Jackson can't contain a wince as he shifts in his chair and tries to get away from him.

"I'm serious," Danny says. "I like him. _A lot_. And I don't need any of your overprotective bullshit scaring him off."

Jackson purses his lips together, expression hard.

"If he hurts you, I'll kill him."

Danny pats him in the cheek, "I wouldn't expect anything less. But if you do anything to make him uncomfortable, _I'll_ be the one doing the killing."

"They are so weird," Scott leans in to whisper at him. "So so weird."

"I know," Stiles whispers back. "It makes us look well-adjusted."

"We are well-adjusted," Scott frowns.

"Sure," Stiles says slowly. "Sure, we are."

Before Scott can say something back, Stiles' phone buzzes in the pocket of his uniform pants.

He picks it up and sees the screen light up with a new text from Derek, Stiles getting that sweeping feeling at the bottom of his stomach as he unlocks his phone and reads it.

**From: Derek**

_Is it okay if I spend the night after dinner?_

Stiles swallows hard, biting down on his bottom lip as he types an answer.

**To: Derek**

_of course you can_

**To: Derek**

_assuming you still want to_

**To: Derek**

_after you meet my friends_

"You have your freaking out face on again," Scott comments, staring from Stiles' phone to his face and back.

This time, before Stiles can be the one to say something, his phone rings.

Like, with an actual call.

From Derek.

And Stiles feels like he should mention that even though they've been dating for quite a while, having actual conversations on the phone is not something either of them do.

And then before he can blink his chair is being tipped back and his phone is being plucked out of his hands and he's sprawled on the floor with Jackson sitting on top of him and covering his mouth with a hand.

"Stiles Stilinski's phone," Scott answers, Stiles eyes widen and then narrowing into slits as he glares at his best friend with as much hate as he can muster. "Scott McCall speaking."

"Oh hey, Derek," Scott smirks at Stiles, who starts squirming and trying to buck Jackson from on top of him. "Stiles told me you're coming over to Danny's tomorrow."

Stiles hates his friends.

A lot.

This is a direct violation to the bro code and Stiles won't hesitate to let Scott know about it.

And then _make him pay_.

"Stiles a little busy right now," Scott says, scratching his chin. "But I can tell you that we're super excited to meet you, man."

A little busy his soon-to-be dead ass.

"He should talk a lot about us," Scott nods along to whatever Derek is saying. "We're his best friends. His _family_."

Stiles tries to push Jackson off of him again, only to get Jackson settle more of his weight on him and pin him to the ground.

Danny is just watching them, serene smile on his face as Scott keeps talking to Derek on the phone.

"Yeah? That's really cool, dude, that you have people like that," Scott answers to whatever Derek says. "Maybe we can all hang out sometime. I think it'd be cool for us to meet. You know. Worlds colliding and shit."

"Yeah, man," Scott says, risking a glance at Stiles shooting daggers at him and then at Danny when he extends a hand to him, palm up. "Yeah, he is, but Danny wants to talk to you first."

Scott passes the phone to Danny, turning to Stiles with a grin attached to his face that instantly slips as Stiles manages to free a hand from under Jackson's legs and point a finger at him.

"Derek? Hi, this is Danny."

Stiles' attention snaps to Danny, thoughts of murdering Scott being pushed to the back of his head for a while.

"The bike accident, yeah," Danny laughs. "I was the one driving the ambulance when you were in. I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm actually talking to you more to reassure that you're not going to be completely on the spotlight tomorrow than to intimidate you like Scott was trying to do," Danny says, and Stiles goes completely limp on the floor, eyes staring up at the ceiling. "I don't know if Stiles told you, but I'm also bringing my boyfriend to dinner, so you won't be the only one new there."

"Yeah, Ethan," and Danny's face softens as he says his name. "So there's no reason for you to be like Stiles and freak out because of it."

"Yes, just let me go get him."

Danny tilts his head at Jackson, who starts getting up.

Only to immediately get kicked in the chin when Stiles manages to move his legs freely.

He doesn't feel sorry when Jackson topples sideways and crashes to the ground.

_Dick_.

And don't think he doesn't notice Scott's eyes widening and the hurry in which he gets out of his chair and gets the fuck out of the kitchen.

And it's not like he doesn't know Stiles knows he's going to be hiding in the Chief's office until either Stiles or him get called out.

And it's not like it's the easiest thing in the world to get Chief Finstock out of said office just by telling him Greenberg is doing something he's not supposed to.

Danny flashes Stiles his dimples as Stiles gets up and walks up to him, lips thin and expression hard.

_I'm going to kill you_, Stiles mouths to him as he picks up the phone.

Danny winks at him.

Stiles turns on his back and gets as far away from his friends as he can.

And by that he means climbing on the back of his ambulance and closing the door.

"Hi," Stiles says quietly, sitting down on the stretcher.

"Did that just happen?"

"If by that you mean my friends kidnapping my phone and sitting on me so I couldn't get it back and they could talk to you, then yes."

"Sitting on you?"

"Remind me to poison Jackson's food for that one," Stiles grumbles. "And chopping Scott into tiny little pieces for starting it."

Derek huffs out something that Stiles thinks it's a laugh before saying, "At least you're not freaking out anymore."

"I wasn't freaking out before," Stiles lies, shifting a little in place.

"Sure you weren't," Derek says lightly. "Your friends seem nice."

Stiles snorts, "Too bad I'm going to kill them before you have a chance to meet them."

"Stiles," Derek drawls out his name. "It's okay. It was good talking to Scott, actually. I can see why he's so important to you."

"Yeah, well, I'm regretting giving him the title of my best friend."

"He reminds me of Laura," Derek remarks, and then adds, "Only, you know, _nicer_."

"_Great_," Stiles groans. "Let's make a pact to never ever let them meet."

Derek stays in silence for a beat or two before saying, "Scott mentioned that."

"Mentioned what?"

"Our friends meeting."

Stiles blinks.

And then groans again, "Can we agree on you getting to know my friends first before we start thinking about them meeting and joining forces to make our lives a living hell?"

"Yes," Derek says, and Stiles can hear the smile in his voice. "We can. And I'd like you to get to know everyone better before that happens, too."

"I- Yeah?" Stiles asks hopefully, voice lowering.

"Yes."

"That's-," Stiles clears his throat. "I'd like that."

"Good," Derek tells him. "Because Erica's birthday is almost here and I know she'll want you to come."

Stiles rolls his eyes, "Of course she will. I doubt she'd ever let the chance to find out more about our personal life pass her by."

"I blame Cora for her lack of boundaries," Derek sighs. "She talks about hers and Isaac's relationship to anyone who'll listen."

"And Erica listens."

"She says she likes to gather as much information as possible about people."

"And who do you blame that one on?"

Derek doesn't say anything for a few seconds, and then sighs again, "Uncle Peter. He has a thing for knowing everything about everyone."

"Yeah?" Stiles asks, curious. "That must be..."

He trails off, making a face even though Derek can't see him.

"_Invasive_? _Annoying_?" Derek offers, and then clears his throat. "He wasn't always like that."

Stiles blinks, stomach tightening as he waits for Derek to say something else, to explain.

"It was after-," Derek starts, stops, tries again. "It was after _her_ that he decided he should always know what people were thinking, planning, doing. He didn't want to be caught off guard again, didn't want any of us to get hurt."

"He sounds-," Stiles cuts off abruptly.

"Nice is not the right word, is it?" Derek feels in for him. "His heart is in the right place, and he never tried to get in anyone's business without-"

"Without consent?" Stiles asks hopefully.

"Without making sure they had no idea what he was doing."

Stiles can almost see Derek's wince at that.

"This doesn't bode well for me, does it?"

Stiles is not really sure he wants to meet Derek's Uncle anymore.

Or ever, really.

"You're the Sheriff's kid," Derek remarks. "That'll count for something with him."

"At least he'll know I'm honest?"

And Stiles doesn't like how that comes out as a question, but is relieved when Derek just laughs at him.

And teases, "Like anyone would need to be observant to figure that out. You're a horrible liar."

"Hey!" Stiles yelps, and then stops. "I don't know why I said that. It's not like I should be offended about not being able to lie to save my fucking life."

"You really shouldn't," Derek tells him. "And that's one of the things I like most about you."

Figures.

Derek liking the fact that Stiles can't, for the life of him, ever betray him like that.

Like she did.

It's no wonder, really.

"Well," Stiles says slowly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Derek chuckles. "So I'll see you tomorrow night?"

"Yes."

"And I can stay the night?"

"You can always stay the night," Stiles blurts out, and when Derek doesn't answer he swallows hard and says, "I mean it. You don't have to ask all the time."

"I- Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Derek breathes out. "I'll talk to you later, Bunny."

"Later, baby."

Stiles climbs out of the ambulance feeling lighter than he's been all day.

And promptly marches to Chief Finstock's office.

Only to see Scott sitting on one of the chairs, eyes wide when Stiles opens the door and closes it behind him.

Stiles tackles him.

Scott screams.

Chief Finstock burst into the room, opens his mouth, takes one look at them, snaps his mouth shut, and says, "I don't want to know, do I?"

"No," they both say in unison.

"Alright," he gives them a sharp nod. "Carry on then."

And Stiles does just that, fingers at Scott's side as he grin wickedly down at his friend.

"You wouldn't," Scott says, voice high.

Stiles leans in close until their noses are almost touching, "I so would."

Later, Danny tells him they could hear the sounds of Scott's laughter as Stiles was tickling him right from the entry of the firehouse.

* * *

Stiles is trying to find something decent to wear tonight at Danny's when he hears a knock on the door, his heart clenching in his chest in anticipation as he runs to open it.

He knows it's Derek, knows he's here earlier than usual so they can have some time alone before they have to head out to dinner, so they can make out and freak out and talk and possibly make out so more.

So there's already a smile stretching across his face as he gets to the door and opens it and-

"_What are you wearing_?"

Stiles freezes in place.

And gapes at Derek.

And lets his eyes rake over his boyfriend's body and clothes.

And gapes some more.

And then snaps his mouth shut and lick his lips and sticks a hand in his pocket to not-so-discreetly adjust himself.

"I'm going to have dinner with your friends," Derek scowls at him, the tip of his ears starting to flush. "And meet them for the first time."

Stiles presses his lips together and tries not to coo at how fucking adorable and _awkward_ Derek is being right now.

Because he says _meet them for first time_ like it explains why he's wearing slacks, a button down, and a _tie_.

And looking about as excited as someone who's marching to their own certain death as he clutches his overnight bag in one hand.

"Aren't you going to let me in?"

Stiles still doesn't say anything, stepping aside so Derek can go past him and into the apartment.

He closes the door as Derek walks no further than a couple of steps and pauses, dropping his bag on the floor, turning so he and Stiles are face to face, Stiles leaning with his back against the door.

"You're wearing a tie," Stiles croaks out, mentally adding and looking _unbelievably fucking hot_.

Derek scowls harder, staring down at himself. "Am I not supposed to?"

"Well, I mean," Stiles gestures a hand in front of himself. "You can wear whatever you want. And if what you want is to wear a tie and slacks and a button down, then that's okay. It's more than okay, actually. You look really-," Stiles clears his throat. "You look really really good. But it's not necessary."

"But it's my first time meeting them," Derek frowns at him. "I don't want to..."

Derek trails off, face doing that pinched thing when he wants to say something but doesn't really know how to put it into words.

Stiles, as always, doesn't hesitate to do it for him.

"Embarrass me? Make a bad first impression?"

And he really can't help the way his lips twitch up at that, at Derek being the one freaking out this time, after being so calm while Stiles was a bundle of nerves.

And when Derek nods, Stiles can't help but huff out a laugh and grin at him.

"Baby," Stiles says, walking up to Derek until their chest to chest and taking his face in his hands. "The only thing that'll happen if you show up dressed like this is have Lydia and Allison bitch at the rest of us for never looking quite as nice," Derek gives _him_ a bitch face, but Stiles continues. "You don't have to try to impress them. They'll already think it's impressive enough that you manage to put up with me for long periods of time without cracking and trying to strangle me to death."

"I like spending time with you," Derek mumbles, mouth hard.

Stiles shakes his head and doesn't stop himself from leaning in and closing the distance between them, catching Derek's lips in a sweet kiss.

"And they're going to see that," Stiles reassures him when he pulls back. "All they want for me is someone that makes me happy and keeps up with me. And since you do, you don't have to worry about that. And as for embarrassing me, we all know I'm the one prone to doing embarrassing things in public, not you. And Scott used to walk around town with a fake bunny tail stuck to his ass, so it's not like they can say anything, anyway."

Derek makes his curious eyebrows at the mention of Scott walking around town with a tail, but Stiles just shakes his head at him again and pulls at the collar of Derek's shirt.

"But again, if you want to go dressed like this, you can," Stiles tells him. "Or if you want to change into the clothes you have in your bag, you can too. Or if you want me to lend you a shirt, that's an option, too."

An option Stiles liked a little bit too much now that it came out of his mouth.

Because-

"I'm not going to fit into one of your shirts," Derek rolls his eyes at him, the discomfort from before slowly fading from his expression.

"You will, they'll just be-," Stiles licks his lips, eyes raking over the muscles of Derek's chest. "Really tight," and then down at his slacks. "Like your pants right now."

"Stiles," Derek gives him a long and heavy look, lips pressed thin in the way Stiles knows Derek is hiding a smile.

Stiles huffs, "Really, though. As much as I like you with a tie and pants that don't hide _anything, by the way_," Stiles proves his point by tugging at the end of the tie and bringing Derek closer to him, "I want you to be comfortable tonight. And I don't think these clothes will do it."

Derek looks down at himself before glancing back up at Stiles again.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I know_ I'm_ going with my hobo jeans and the first clean shirt I can find, so you don't need to dress up."

"Hobo jeans?" Derek blinks at him.

Stiles bites down at his bottom lip, ignoring the way his cheeks start to flush, "The one I wore on our first date? I call them my hobo jeans."

"The one with paint splatter on one of the back pockets?"

Stiles nods.

"And the rip on the knee?"

Stiles nods again.

"And the rip under your right back pocket that shows off your boxer briefs depending of the way you walk?"

Stiles trades nodding for gaping at Derek and flushing deeper, his voice coming out a little choked when he asks, "You noticed that?"

Derek licks his lips, "Kind of hard not to."

"But you never said anything."

Derek shifts in place a little, bringing a hand up so he can wrap his fingers around Stiles' wrist is a loose hold.

"I didn't want to-," Derek starts, throat bobbing as he swallows. "I didn't want you to think-"

Stiles waits for him, one hand still wrapped around Derek's tie and the other coming to rest against the side of his neck, Stiles' thumb pressing just under Derek's jaw.

"I didn't want you to assume I was expecting something if I mentioned it," Derek tells him, shrugging one shoulder. "Especially if it was something I wasn't ready to give you yet."

"Oh."

"But I noticed," Derek says, staring at him straight in the eye, lips curling up in a smirk. "Did I notice."

"I-," Stiles licks his lips, clears his throat. "Yeah, well. That's what I'll be wearing tonight. So you can get rid of this if you wanna."

"I wanna," Derek sighs, body relaxing. "I really wanna."

Stiles laughs at that, shaking his head as he bend down to grab Derek's bag, taking one of his hands in his own as he says, "C'mon, big guy," and leads him to his room.

Stiles dumps Derek's bag on top of his bed, sitting down beside it as he opens the zipper and starts rummaging through it looking for jeans and a shirt.

That is until his fingers close around something.

Two somethings, actually.

That are most definitely _not clothes_.

Because Stiles is staring down at them and all he can see are _lube_ and _condoms_.

Lube and condoms.

That _Derek_ brought.

In his bag.

When he's going to be _spending the night_.

And suddenly the reason why Stiles doesn't really want to go to have dinner with his friends has nothing to do with the possibility of them being awful to Derek, but because he wants to stay exactly where he is, in his bed, with Derek, preferably naked, and making use of these two things in his hand.

He swallows hard and risks a glance at Derek, who currently has his back turned to him and is methodically folding his slacks so they don't get any wrinkles.

Stiles scrunches up his nose and tries not to find him adorable.

Meh.

Who's he kidding?

"Did you grab me my clothes yet?" Derek asks, startling Stiles.

Who promptly drops the lube and condoms back on the bag and grabs the pair of jeans Derek brought and the light green v-neck he can see poking out from underneath it.

And pushes all the thoughts of Derek apparently wanting to have sex with him tonight to the back of his mind.

"Yep," Stiles says, clearing his throat when his voice comes out a little high. "Yeah, I got them."

Derek turns around then, placing his pants neatly on top of Stiles' bed, fingers under the knot of his tie as he loosens it and pulls it over his head, turning around so he can hanging it over Stiles' computer chair.

When he faces Stiles again is to unbutton his shirt, and Stiles has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

Because Derek's frowning down at it in concentration as he pops the buttons.

It kind of makes him look angry.

Like it personally offended him having to wear a button down from the ride from his loft to Stiles' apartment.

And then Derek is only in his dark gray boxer briefs and a pair of socks, muscles rippling as he starts folding the shirt before he sets it on top of his slacks on Stiles' bed.

"Here," Stiles says, licking his lips as he hands Derek his jeans and accepts a peck on the lips.

"Thanks," Derek smiles softly at him, pulling on his pants.

Stiles tries not to feel disappointed for not being able to oggle Derek's ass anymore, giving him the shirt and bracing himself on his hands as Derek finishes getting dressed.

"Your turn," Derek says as he sits down beside Stiles', poking him in the thigh with a finger.

Stiles blinks at him.

"To get undressed in front of you?" Stiles asks, tone teasing. "Was that a game we were playing? You strip and then I strip? Because if so I would have put on some music and made you move your hips a little more."

Derek gives him a pointed look, the tips of his ears going red as he tries to sound stern, "Go get dressed or we'll be late."

"There is no being late in our dinners," Stiles waves a hand in front of him as he gets up. "There's only no food left because between us no one waits for anyone before they order. They're like a pack of hungry wolves. If you're not there by the time the food arrives, then you might just eat something at home before coming."

"Lovely," Derek deadpans. "Your friends just keep looking more and more like _my friends_."

"And we thought we didn't need more people in our lives, didn't we?" Stiles smiles sweetly at him, getting rid of his shirt and dropping it on the floor.

"Glad I was proven wrong," Derek says quietly, eyes glued to Stiles.

"Me too," Stiles whispers as he bends down to cup Derek's face between his hands and brush their lips together.

"No more kisses-," Derek says, getting cut off when Stiles kisses again, "Until you-," and again, "Get dressed," and one more time.

"Alright, alright," Stiles laughs when Derek pushes him away with hands on his bare belly. "I'll get dressed."

Stiles turns his back to Derek, taking his time to unbuckle his belt and unbutton and unzip his pants, hooking his fingers under the waistband and pushing his pants slowly down past his hips and the swell on his ass.

He's glad Derek can't see him, because as soon as he hears Derek's sharp intake of breath, Stiles' smile is nothing but _pure smug_.

He doesn't turn back, walking to his closet and grabbing his old jeans and putting them on, wiggling his ass a little as he zips it and buttons it. And then picking out one of his older shirts that's a little too tight in the chest and shoulders and _everywhere, really_ but make him look good.

When he finally looks back at Derek is to find him darting his eyes between Stiles' ass and his chest, cheeks flushed and lips parted as he takes in the view.

Stiles is still smug.

And hoping this means Derek now has more than one reason to make use of the lube and condoms he brought with him today.

It's Derek who breaks the silence, clearing his throat and tilting his chin up at Stiles, "You look good."

"You too," Stiles says as he flops down beside Derek on the bed. "And I have to say, even though I loved the fancy clothes, I kind of like you more in just a shirt and a pair of jeans."

"Me too," Derek sighs, and then wrinkles his nose. "I don't really like clothes that restrict the way I move."

Stiles looks significantly down at Derek's tights jeans.

"They're stretchy," Derek explains, eyes glinting in amusement.

"And _very nice_," Stiles nods as he traces his fingers over Derek's tigh.

"Sometimes I think you only want me for my body," Derek says, joking.

Or trying to, but Stiles has become pretty well-versed in Derek Hale to know when there's some truth lying underneath what he's saying.

Stiles wonder if this is another thing about his previous relationship, if his ex-girlfriend valued him for his good looks and what kind of things his name could give her.

He doesn't call Derek on it, though, deciding to play along but also make his point that he likes Derek for so much more than that.

"And your cooking skills," Stiles starts, pressing kisses over Derek's jaw and cheek and shoulder and neck every time he lists something off. "Your dry wit. Your loyalty to your family and friends. Your impeccable taste in toothbrushes. Your willingness to let me cuddle the shit out of you whenever I want. Your always warm and soft skin. Your ridiculous expressive eyebrows. Your ability to remember the little things I said to you a long time ago. Your bike. And your laugh lines."

Derek doesn't say anything for a few seconds, turning his head so their noses bump together.

"My laugh lines?"

"Yes," Stiles says as he traces them with his fingers. "If you have laugh lines it means you're smiling and laughing a lot. And if you're smiling and laughing a lot then it means you're happy. And if you're happy, hopefully it means I have something to do with it. So he's, your laugh lines."

Derek shakes his head at him, cupping Stiles' jaw with a hand as he stares at him, eyes filled with so much intensity they make Stiles' breath hitch.

"You have _everything_ to do with it."

Stiles blinks furiously and swallows, trying not to show how much that statement affected him.

And failing when he says, "I'm glad to be that for you," and his voice cracks.

Derek doesn't say anything else, just pulls him into a sweet and slow kiss that leaves Stiles feeling like there's something pressing down against his chest and making it hard for him to breathe.

"C'mon," Derek says when he pulls back. "We have a dinner to attend."

Stiles snorts and looks at Derek, lips tugging up and a look of pure determination on his face.

Like Stiles friends are going to fucking like him_ or else_.

Stiles approves.

It also calms him down in a way, knowing how much Derek wants this to happen.

Only that look lasts halfway to Danny's, Derek starting to squirm in his seat with nerves the closer and closer they get to the apartment.

Stiles doesn't try to say anything to make him calm down, just reaches over and takes one of Derek's hand in his, squeezing it tight.

Derek doesn't move the rest of the way, only to lift their joined hands up to his mouth so he can brush his lips against Stiles' knuckles as they drive.

They park outside Danny's apartment, Stiles killing the Jeep and unbuckling his seat belt and turning in his seat so he can stare fully at Derek.

Who's actually looking a little pale, if Stiles is being honest.

Stiles thinks about saying something.

Or more specifically, about telling him there's no way his friends won't like him, because _Stiles_ likes him.

He doesn't, though, deciding to take a page out of Derek's book and doing _something_ instead.

And by that he means kissing the fuck out of him.

Grabbing him by the back of his neck and turning his face so Stiles can slot their lips together and getting a hand on his hair and nipping at his bottom lip before tracing his tongue over it and licking his way into his mouth until neither of them can _breathe_ anymore.

"Okay?" Stiles asks when he pulls back, voice coming out a little rough.

Derek blinks at him, looking a little dazed, before he lets out a deep breath and his entire body relaxes.

Who knew Stiles' kisses could do that to someone.

"Okay," Derek says quietly, bumping their noses together.

They walk up to Danny's hand in hand, Stiles' thumb rubbing circles over the palm of Derek's hand as he grabs his keys and looks for the one Danny gave it to him.

"Do you all have keys to each other's apartments?" Derek asks as he peers over Stiles' shoulder.

"Yep," Stiles nods. "Danny's place is closer to the hospital, so sometimes if Lydia or Allison are too tired to drive home, they crash here. While Scott's place is closer to the firehouse, so whenever Danny, Jackson, and I are too exhausted to do anything other than pass the fuck out somewhere, we go to Scotty's."

Derek makes a sound at the back of his throat as Stiles puts the key into the lock and opens the door, yelling "Stiles and Derek!" as they step inside.

Derek gives him his confused eyebrows at having Stiles announce their presence like this, so Stiles explains, "We also make a habit of yelling our names so people know we're coming and aren't naked."

"You mean _you_ make a habit of yelling out your name so people know you arrived," Derek raises an eyebrow at him.

"You know me so well," Stiles bats his lashes at him, squeezing Derek's hand as the step into the living room and all conversation ceases.

Scott and Allison are sitting on the couch, Scott's arm thrown over Allison's shoulder and Allison's hand on his knee. Lydia and Jackson are by their side, Lydia with her back resting against Jackson's chest, knees pressing against Allison's thigh, and Jackson with an arm around Lydia's waist. Danny and someone Stiles assumes is Ethan are sharing one of Danny's armchairs, Danny with his legs thrown over Ethan's lap so they can fit.

They all just sit there and stare at Stiles and Derek.

Until Scott's eyes widen in surprise and he says, "_Derek_?"

"I- What- You two-,"Stiles looks from Derek to Scott and back to Derek again, stunned. "You know him?"

He doesn't really know who he's asking the question, he just wants an answer as to why his _best friend_ knows his _boyfriend_.

"Yeah," Scott says at the same time Derek tells him, "Yes."

"This is interesting," Lydia wonders out loud, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she stares at them.

"Really interesting," Jackson nods, squeezing her hip.

"He's Derek," Scott says, shaking his head a little. "Derek_ Hale_. From _Hale's Garage_."

"I know _that_," Stiles huffs. "What I don't know is why you never told me you- he's your_ mechanic_!"

Stiles looks from Derek to Scott and back again, mouth agape, as he tries to take the new information in.

And wondering if he should be pissed at Scott for not telling him he had a hot mechanic and setting him up with Stiles.

To know he could have met Derek _before_ and they could be doing_ this_ for a while is making him feels things.

Mostly like he was robbed of something.

And by something, Stiles means _time with Derek_.

"He's not my mechanic," Scott shakes his head. "Isaac is. He's just around sometimes."

"Just around-"

"I stay at the office a lot," Derek interrupts him. "Handling things for Peter. So it's not everytime he comes by that I'm at the shop. And speaking of which," Derek turns to Scott. "Your bike working okay?"

Scott looks taken aback for a moment.

And so does Stiles, if he's being honest.

He knows how shy and awkward Derek can be around people, so the fact that he's actually _talking to his friends_ makes Stiles' stomach flip.

And his heart melt a little bit.

"Yeah," Scott says slowly, the edges of a smile forming on his lips. "Isaac did a great job, taking care of it for me. But I figure I'm gonna have to buy a new one soon, though. I've had this one since I was in high school."

Everyone startles at that, because they've been trying to convince Scott to buy a newer model _forever_ without any success.

Not even_ Allison_ managed to talk him into retiring from the old dirty bike, so the fact that it just takes Derek one conversation for Scott to be totally on board with this is a feat.

"I can help," Derek offers, looking from Scott to Stiles, as if noticing everyone's wide stares. "With that. The new bike. Isaac too, considering he knows more about how Scott uses his bike than I do."

"Yeah?" and now Scott is actually beaming at Derek. "You wouldn't mind?"

By how eager he sounds, Stiles knows he won't be needing to make any efforts for his best friend and his boyfriend to get along.

_Awesome_.

And _thank fuck_, because now he won't have to worry about getting called to pick Scott up from an accident when his bike inevitably crashes.

"No," Derek shakes his head. "It's important to have a safe means of transportation, and old or bikes are definitely not it. No matter how much you love them."

"Derek is totally right," Allison jumps right in, nodding vigorously. "You should take him up on his offer. And we can agree to meet on a day where I'm not working or on a later shift so I can come with."

"Yeah?" and Scott looks really fucking excited now.

"Yeah," Allison grins at him, and then turns to Derek. "Is that okay with you?"

Derek looks at them and then back at Stiles, who nods, "Yeah. That'd be great. I'll talk to Isaac."

"Thanks, man," Scott smiles. "I appreciate it."

"No problem."

"And now it kind of makes sense, though," Scott says as he squints at Derek.

Derek blinks at him, "What does?"

"Why I thought Hot Biker Guy seemed familiar whenever Stiles described him."

If Scott thinks the tickling attack yesterday was bad, he has no idea what's coming for him.

_No idea_.

"Hot Biker Guy?" Derek asks before Stiles can open his mouth.

Stiles knows all the blood on his body must be pooling in his cheeks, but he still turns his head to look at Derek.

Only to see this soft and warm and open expression on his face as he blinks at Stiles.

"Really? Hot Biker Guy?" Derek asks again, and as Stiles looks closer he can see the corner of Derek's lips twitching as he's trying to fight a smile.

"Why do you always focus on the embarrassing stuff?" Stiles hisses, face getting redder by the minute.

Derek gives him a smile, then.

A real one, with teeth showing and eye crinkles and_ dimples_.

Stiles is vaguely aware of Danny and Ethan's sharp intake of breath and Lydia and Allison's mutters "wow" and Scott and Jackson's annoyed huffs.

He's too busy staring at Derek.

And at how fucking _gorgeous_ he looks when he smiles.

"I really want to kiss you right now," Stiles whispers, blinking at Derek.

Derek's entire face flushes under Stiles' gaze, and he starts shifting on his feet, eyes going from Stiles back to the living room full of his friends.

His smile is still in place, though, even as it transforms into something small and soft and fond.

"Maybe you should introduce me to your friends, first," Derek suggests, shrugging minutely.

"Right," Stiles drawls out, turning to stare back at everyone. "Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Derek," he says, gesturing to the Derek. "Derek, this is everyone."

Everyone is rolling their eyes at him at the moment, and then either raising a hand or smiling as they state their names.

And who they're in a relationship with.

Or at least, Allison, Scott, Jackson, and Lydia do that, because when it gets to Danny's turn everyone goes silent again, looking at him expectantly.

"Everyone," Danny starts, grinning when he looks from Ethan to his friends. "This is Ethan, my boyfriend. Ethan, you've just met everyone."

Everyone waves and smiles again, Stiles directing Derek to the empty loveseat and pushing him down to sit on it, flopping by his side and instantly moving so he's as close to Derek as he can get.

Derek just huffs at him and lets Stiles grab one of his arms and wrap around his shoulder, and Stiles can tell that whatever tension Derek still had in his body dies down as Stiles squirms to find a comfortable position.

Especially when Derek starts tracing patterns over Stiles' arm and places a kiss on his temple, oblivious to everyone around them.

"I have to say," Lydia comments, eyes trained on Ethan and Derek. "After hearing so much about you from both Danny and Stiles, it's nice to finally meet you. You officially, Derek."

"I think it's safe to say Derek and I heard a lot about all of you, too," Ethan smiles at Derek, who gives him a nod.

And kind of surprises Stiles by saying, "And I didn't get a chance to tell you what a great job you did with the Egg Run," Derek tells Lydia, who arches her eyebrows minutely at him. "I used to run with my Dad when I was younger, so it's nice to see people still care about it."

Lydia's lips twitch up briefly before she nods at him and says, "Thank you. It's good to be appreciated."

That last bit is directed to Jackson, if judging by the way Lydia's eyes snap at him.

"What?" Jackson grumbles. "I appreciate you."

"You weren't even _there_."

"Oh, here we go," Allison sighs, slumping further into Scott, who just pats the hand she has on his knee lightly.

Danny rolls his eyes, getting up from the couch and grabbing both Lydia and Jackson's hands and leading them to his kitchen.

That leaves Ethan alone, who Stiles notices starts looking a little nervous now that he doesn't have Danny's presence there by his side.

"You don't have to worry," Stiles shrugs one shoulder, looking from Ethan to Derek. "Lydia and Jackson fighting when we have dinner is kind of a common thing."

"Like the food," Scott nods. "It's always there."

"They don't _always_ fight," Allison protests, only to get looks from both Scott and Stiles.

"But aren't they together?" Ethan asks, frowning at them.

Allison, Scott, and Stiles share a look before Stiles explains, "We don't really know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Derek pokes him in the arm, and when Stiles looks up at him it's so see him frowning.

"We don't talk about it," Scott says, getting nods from Allison and Stiles.

"They were an on-and-off thing in high school," Stiles tells them. "By college we just didn't care to to keep track of their relationship anymore."

"When they fight about something it usually means they're together," Allison offers. "But it's still better for everyone if we just-"

"Don't talk about it," both Derek and Ethan say in unison.

"And that's why you two will fit right in," Danny says as he steps out of the kitchen and turns on the volume a little bit louder, Lydia and Jackson nowhere in sight.

"Still fighting?" Scott asks as Danny sits down again, arm thrown over Ethan's shoulder as he pulls him close.

"Yep," Danny nods. "Jackson brought up the '09 Medical Convention."

Stiles and Scott both groan, Allison rolling her eyes and saying, "You don't want to know," when Ethan and Derek just frown in confusion at them.

"So, Allison," Danny wiggles his eyebrows at her. "What are we eating tonight?"

"Dude, you want to order before Lydia comes back?" Stiles asks him, wide-eyed.

"I thought you didn't wait for anyone," Derek comments, looking down at him.

Stiles grins, "We don't. I was just going to say Danny is a genius."

"Lydia is not going to be happy about this," Allison tells them, pressing her lips together.

"Do you really care?" Scott asks her. "Because if you do, we can totally wait."

Allison smiles sweetly at him, kissing him on the cheek before turning to Danny and making grabby hands and saying, "Give me the flyers."

Both Stiles and Scott throw their arms up in celebration, Ethan and Derek looking once again at everyone with confusion on their faces.

"Lydia is picky," Allison supplies.

"Oh," both Ethan and Derek nod in understanding.

"Do any of you have any food allergies?" Allison asks them as Danny hands her the flyers.

"No," Derek shakes his head, just as Ethan says, "No, but I don't really like sea food."

"God, me neither," Allison says, relieved. "I always have to ask for a hot plate whenever Jackson insists on picking that for his turn."

"I don't think he'll be doing that anymore," Danny says, eyeing Scott.

"Never again, man," Scott shakes his head. "Never again."

Allison goes back to looking down at her options, Scott looking over her shoulder, Danny and Ethan smiling and talking to each other, the faint voices of Lydia and Jackson coming from the kitchen.

Stiles turns to Derek, who's staring at everyone with a small smile playing at his lips.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Derek says quietly as he looks down at him, rubbing their noses together. "I can see why you love them."

Stiles makes a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat, brushing their lips together quickly before asking, "Does this mean you like them?"

"I've liked what I've seen so far."

"Diplomatic answer," Stiles nods against Derek's chest. "Very good. If Lydia was here, she'd be proud."

Derek snorts, pressing a smile against Stiles' hair.

"How about some Italian food?" Allison asks, waving a flyer around.

"I'm in," Stiles says, looking at Derek who only nods in response.

Ethan and Danny both give Allison a thumb-up, while Scott just smiles and says, "Whatever you want."

"I'll make the call, then," Allison flashes her dimples at them, fishing Scott's phone from his pocket. "You two take a look at what you want and let me know," she tells Derek and Ethan, who nod.

"Don't you need to go ask Lydia and Jackson for what they want?" Ethan asks after they finish rattling Allison they're order.

"They probably already know," Derek tells Ethan, raising an eyebrow at Scott and Stiles when they scoff at him.

"Yep," Danny nods. "Gonna fit right in."

Lydia and Jackson come back from the kitchen just as Allison finishes placing their order, holding each other's hands.

Allison lets them know what they'll be eating, and even though Jackson glares for not being consulted about it, Lydia just gracefully accepts the news with a nod of her head.

Conversation flows after that, Stiles' friends making space to ask questions about both Derek and Ethan's lives and jobs and getting to know them, sharing stories about him and Danny, Derek making a friend out of Lydia when he mentions he might be looking for a place to live - something Stiles is surprised to hear Derek mention, but he guesses tonight is all about that, _being surprised_ - and accepts her on her offer to help, and Ethan grabbing Allison's interest when he mentions the couples yoga class he teaches.

Things only get better when the food arrives, everyone laughing and making jokes and Stiles's friends eyeing him and Derek whenever Derek steals something from Stiles' plate.

He's pleasantly surprised to see everyone getting along so well, to see Derek interacting and talking to his friends and _making an effort_, just because he knows how important these people are to him.

And the best part is that he's just himself.

Like after Stiles told him he didn't have to try and impress them by dressing up, he relaxed and let Stiles' friends judge him for who he is.

And Stiles can tell, by the way he keeps getting looks of approval from everyone whenever Derek matches him on his shit or makes a dry joke or gets that look on his face like Stiles is the only one there or leans in to peck him on the lips that they think he made a good choice.

Which is why everything goes to fucking hell when they're leaving.

Lydia and Jackson leave first, with Jackson giving Derek and Stiles a sharp nod that Stiles will take as a compliment, and Lydia stopping to say a few words.

"It was nice seeing you again, Derek," Lydia smiles sweetly at him. "It's good to know Stiles is in good hands."

"You, too," Derek gives her a small smile in return before looking at Stiles. "And he is."

"Good," Lydia pats him on the shoulder. "But if you hurt him, remember I have access to the records of the drivers registered in the race."

Derek blinks at her while Stiles gapes and hisses, "_Lydia_."

"What?" she asks him, all mock innocence. "I just want him to know I know where to find him. And not to forget that I know how to work a scalp in my favor."

But just as Stiles opens his mouth he hears the low sound of Derek's chuckle, his gaze snapping to his boyfriend to find him smiling down at Lydia.

"If it comes to that," Derek tells her, his serious tone still there despite his smile. "I won't stop you."

It's Lydia's turn to smile at him, this time more genuine, before she blows them kisses and leaves.

"What was that?" Stiles shakes his head, not protesting when Derek pulls him flushed to his side with an arm over his shoulder as they make their way to the door.

"That was expected," Derek says, raising an eyebrow at Stiles. "And it was a good idea the rest of your friends waited to get me alone to tell me there'd be a world of pain if I ever hurt you. They must have known you were going to act like that."

"They did _what_?"

"Yes, thank you for proving my point."

"How are you okay with this?"

"Because I know my family did and will do the same. And I told you," Derek says, voice low. "I wouldn't expect anything less from people who love you. If coming from my family has taught me one thing, it is that you protect those you love. And that's what they're doing."

Stiles doesn't really know what to say to that, doesn't really know if he even wants to think about what that means when it comes to Derek's friends and family and what happened to them.

"You know what? Nevermind," Stiles waves a hand in front of him. "What's important is that tonight was fun and everyone seemed to like you and you seemed to like them and there were no death by food allergies or wayward silverware or Jackson's horrible jokes, so I'm counting it as a win. For everyone."

Derek shakes his head at him, eyes bright and fond as places a kiss on Stiles' forehead and says, "I did like them. And I like knowing you have friends like that. Even if I can see Ethan and Danny making on out the kitchen right now."

Stiles turns his head to see that _yes_, they both have a pretty good view of Danny crowding Ethan against the fridge and kissing him.

Stiles snorts.

Derek blushes.

And Scott comes out of the bathroom with a sleepy Allison leaned against him, her head on his shoulder.

"She okay?" Stiles asks, frowning at them.

"Yeah," Scott sighs. "She's just more tired than usual. I should probably get her home."

"Okay," Stiles says, giving Scott a one-armed hug, and Allison a kiss on the cheek. "Bye, Scotty and Ally."

"See ya, man," Scott tilts his chin at him and then turns to Derek to smile and shake his hand. "It was nice meeting you, man."

"You too," Derek says, and looks down at Allison's almost sleeping form. "Both of you."

Scott looks down at Allison, his smile turning into something soft and _in love_ as he brings a hand up to brush her hair away from her face, "C'mon, Dr. Argent. Time to say goodbye to our friends."

Stiles feels Derek's entire body tense as Allison opens her mouth and mumbles, "Bye", both of them walking past Stiles and Derek to the door so Scott can take her home.

Or at least trying to, before Derek drops his arm from Stiles' shoulder and positions himself in front of it.

"What did you say?"

Stiles doesn't like the way Derek's voice has gone flat, his expression blank.

Something's wrong.

Really really really wrong.

"What did he say her last name was?" Derek asks, this time to Allison, eyes glued to her face.

"Argent," Scott frowns, looking from Stiles to Derek, obviously confused. "Her last name is Argent."

Stiles doesn't even have time to open his mouth and call Derek's name before he's opening the door and walking out of the apartment.

* * *

**a/n: TL;DR: The Feeling That I'm Under is going to have about a million chapters and I have no one to blame but myself. And that might mean more time between updates.**

First and foremost, I want to thank everyone who's been reading and leaving kudos and comments and being a sweet sweet angel and making it so much fun for me to write this. 3

And it's because of that I want to let you guys know about how the writing process is going and what's going to happen with the story and not leave you wondering about everything while I sort things out.

UNDER is already the longest thing I've ever written in my life, and I still have a long way to go. As of right now I have 8 chapters outlined, around 10k words of stuff that didn't fit into the story or I changed while re-writing it, and about 10 to 15 more things I want Derek and Stiles to go through before I'm done.

I think I'll be able to explore those 10 and 15 more things in another 7 chapters, which will mean **this story will have about 15 chapters total. But that's subjected to change at any time as I keep writing**. Hopefully I'll keep to that plan and manage to get everything in 15 chapters, but if I don't, I'll let you all know.

One of the reasons I've managed to update every week is because I'm on break from uni, but **my classes will restart at the beginning of August.** That means I won't have as much time to write, and updates might slow down a bit.

**If it takes me a while to get a chapter up, it's because I'm taking my time to make it good and not just get something out that might be rough and bad because it's been over a week or two without updates.**

I value good fanfiction writing, and I don't want to disappoint you by updating with a chapter I don't think it's good.

That said, no matter how much time passes between updates, **I won't be abandoning the story**. Some of you might think I'm being super dramatic but I'm having a lot of anxiety about this, so I figured I should just say it, even if it's only for my own peace of mind ~

So I'm asking you guys to be patient with me while I write and edit and plot the rest of this out. And if you have any questions about anything or just want to talk to me you can send me a message on my tumblr (if the link doesn't work here, my username is dylansmouth).

Thank you for reading. 3


	7. Chapter 7

**a/n**: i was meant to put this up earlier but i turned 21 and cut my hair and my classes started a week earlier than i thought they would and i forgot to send the chapter to my beta? so yeah. BUT HERE IT IS!

the dusty springfield song mentioned is _i just don't know what to do with myself_. but i think a lot more people know it as that white stripes song where kate moss dances only in her underwear.

**warnings** for stiles having a panic attack and discussion of past emotional abuse. details at the end notes!

* * *

Stiles doesn't even bother looking back at Scott before he's running after Derek, the sounds of their footsteps echoing through the hallway and down the stairs, Derek's sharp voice on the phone telling someone to _come pick me up_ and rattling Danny's address before hanging up.

"Derek!" Stiles calls out. "_Derek_!"

Stiles notices by the twitch of Derek's shoulders as Stiles yells out his name, he heard him.

But he doesn't stop.

Derek keeps on walking down the stairs and past the building hallway, Stiles on his heels, pushing the entry door open and stepping outside the building and into the street.

That is until Stiles decides that _fuck it_ and starts jogging to catch up with him, finally reaching him and extending a hand to lay on his shoulder, "Fucking dammit, Derek, will you just wait a-"

As soon as Stiles' fingers curl around the thin fabric of Derek's shirt to stop him, Derek flinches away from him like he's been hit.

And stops completely.

And Stiles' stomach rolls when he gets a glance at Derek's profile.

At how fucking _wrecked_ he looks.

"Derek," Stiles says his name again, this time softer.

Derek doesn't acknowledge him, doesn't say anything, but Stiles can see Derek's shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath he takes, his fists clenching and unclenching by his side.

"What-," Stiles starts, swallowing hard as he braces himself and takes a couple of steps forward so he can face Derek. "What happened?"

His voice breaks at the question, because Derek looks _so much worse_ than he thought and Stiles has no idea what made him look this way.

He looks-

He looks _miserable_ and _hurt_ and like he's in _pain_ and _betrayed_ and so fucking _lost_ that all Stiles wants to do is crawl under Derek's skin and tell him _everything's going to be okay_ and_ I'll fix this_.

He wants to take all of the broken pieces that make the man standing in front of him and hold them in his hands and help Derek mend himself up, help him heal, help him be whole again.

"Derek," Stiles tries one more time, voice nothing but a whisper but still firm. "What was it? Was is something Scott said? I mean, I know it must have been but I need you to tell me because if it's a trigger for you then I have to tell him to not saying it anym-"

"Argent," Derek rasps out. "That was her last name. My ex-girlfriend's."

Stiles blinks at him, mouthing opening and eyes widen in horror as he realizes how fucking bad this is.

Because Derek's ex-girlfriend, the one who hurt him and used him and his family, is an Argent.

Like Allison.

Who is one of Stiles' closest friends.

And someone he _loves_.

Someone that could be related to the person who hurt _Derek_.

And it's not like Stiles can ask his friends not to say anything about it, because it's who Allison _is_.

Stiles doesn't know what the fuck to do with this information.

Mostly because Allison doesn't talk about her family outside of her dad, so Stiles has no idea if Derek's ex has any connections to her.

And also because Derek never told him the whole story, so even though Stiles knows this is bad he doesn't know just _how bad_.

He tries to tell Derek that much.

Not that he's that successful at getting the words out.

"I- I don't-"

Or that Derek even bothers hearing him.

If Stiles was in his place, he also doesn't think he would.

"Kate Argent," Derek interrupts him, the words coming out of his mouth like he's been punched. "She was the one who- And your friend- I can't do this, Stiles._ I can't do this_."

Stiles can see the tiny tremors running down Derek's body, and reaches out a hand to lay it on his boyfriend's shoulder saying, "Okay. Okay, you don't have to do anything. I'll talk to them tomorrow and explain what happened, but right now? Just let me take you home," only to have Derek flinch away from him again.

"No," Derek shakes his head, waving a hand between them. "No. I can't do _this_. I can't be around them, and she's one of your _best friends_."

Stiles just blinks at him, mind buzzing with so much information that it takes him a while to process Derek's words.

"This?" Stiles asks, and it's like all the air has been sucked out of his lungs as he realizes what Derek means. "_This_? _Us_? You- I- What the fuck, Derek?"

He sounds desperate.

He knows.

But it's like his brain can't really grasp anything other than the sharp pain in his chest at Derek's words and the clousterfuck this night is turning out to be.

"I can't risk seeing her again," Derek croaks out, expression twisting in anguish. "I can't risk it. I'm sorry."

"Derek," Stiles pleads. "_Derek_, I had _no idea_. I- I don't- Allison never mentioned-"

"I can't be around them," Derek says over him, even though Stiles is not really managing to put words together and _talk_. "Kate- If there's a chance- I can't do this, Stiles."

Derek tries to walk past him, Stiles suddenly panicking and grabbing him by the shoulders, clutching at his shirt and trying desperately to keep him here, so he can make him understand.

"I didn't know, Derek," Stiles tells him, voice rushed and pained. "Allison never mentioned her. I had no idea, Derek. I promise. I didn't know. You never even told me her name._ I didn't know_."

Stiles has his eyes glued to Derek's, so he doesn't miss the way Derek's entire face crumples as he lowers his gaze.

And starts shaking.

And it's like the ground drops out from under him when Derek starts talking.

Because all he says is, "I'm sorry," over and over and over again.

Like he's the one who did something wrong here.

Because Stiles told him Derek never mentioned her name.

Stiles is horrified at himself.

And sick to his stomach.

And he's angry, he's so fucking _angry_ he thinks he could kill someone.

But all he does is wrap his arms around Derek and hold him close, muttering _it's not your fault_ and _it's okay_ and _you didn't do anything wrong_ as he rubs circles across Derek's back and threads his fingers through Derek's hair and tries not to drown in his guilt.

He doesn't notice the black Camaro or the bike parking a couple of yards away, barely hears the door open and snap shut and the sounds of sneakers and boots as two people walk up to them.

He only focuses when Laura stops behind Derek, Cora right behind her, both with arms crossed over their chests as if holding themselves together. They just stand there for a couple of minutes, Stiles clinging harder to Derek as they watch them with equal broken looks on their faces.

"Stiles," Cora steps forward, face a mixture of emotions that Stiles doesn't bother making sense right now.

Because he's too busy holding on to Derek like he's the only thing keeping him together.

And because it feels like someone just tore his chest open and ripped out his heart when Derek tries to step back and away from him, voice hoarse and thick as he continues to apologize.

And also say, "I can't do this."

Stiles feels like he might be sick.

And that also only makes him cling tighter, Derek's shirt stretching when he keeps stepping backwards and trying to get to Cora, who snakes her arms around Derek's waist.

As if she knows that as soon as Stiles lets go, Derek will need someone else to prop him up.

And Stiles doesn't want there to be someone else.

He wants to be that person for Derek, that helps him when things are shit and comforts him and is _there_ for him.

The stitches start popping, the sound of fabric ripping startling Stiles so bad he almost jumps in the air.

He still doesn't let go.

Not until Laura walks up to them, her cold fingers wrapping around Stiles wrists and tugging them off.

Stiles lets go.

And starts his own chorus of sentences, saying _I didn't know_ and _Allison never said anything_ and _please don't do this_.

He doesn't mention not knowing who she was because Derek never told him.

It still doesn't ease his guilt.

Stiles watches as Cora leads Derek back to the car without a look back, depositing him on the passenger's seat and closing the door before giving a look at both of them still standing there on the street and nodding.

She then gets in the car and drives off.

Stiles starts shaking, not that he notices.

Actually, for all he knows, he might have been shaking before right now.

It might have started the moment Derek walked out the door.

Laura drops her hold in his wrists, and it takes Stiles longer than he's comfortable with to notice she didn't leave with them, that she's still standing there, arms now crossed over her chest again as she looks at him.

He doesn't say anything, but she must see something on his face because her first words to him are, "Cora will take him home. He'll be taken care of."

Stiles nods.

Or at least he thinks he does.

"You need to tell me what happened," Laura says, voice steady and expression blank.

Stiles clenches and unclenches his fists.

And repeats himself, "I never knew her name. Derek never said anything and Allison never told us she had any family. I had no idea, you have to believe me, Laura. I didn't know."

His breathing starts becoming erratic, his fingers feeling numb, the rush of blood in his ears muffling the sounds Laura's lips are making.

He feels hands on his own shoulders now, trying to make him sit down; someone bending his legs and a hand cupping the back of his neck and pushing his head between his knees.

He knows someone is talking to him, probably telling him to count in pairs, inhale and exhale, try to focus on their voice, _breathe_.

His face is streaked with tears, head spinning, lungs burning, but he can hear Laura talking to someone now, her voice sharp and urgent, even though he can't really understand what she's saying just yet.

He tries to focus on the hand she still has in the back of his neck, how her cold fingers are now warm and her palm clammy.

He tries not to think about what just happened.

Stiles doesn't know how long they stay there, like that.

It might have been minutes or it might have been years or it might have been _forever_.

He can't really tell.

All he can tell is that the hand on his neck is too delicate and too small to belong to Derek.

He can see the lights, though.

He can hear the sirens and can see the shape of a police cruiser parking just behind Laura's bike.

He can also see his dad coming out of it, face a lot worried and a little bit angry as he walks up to where him and Laura are-

Sitting?

Stiles swallows and blinks up at his dad when he stops right in front of them, eyes following his dad's when he kneels on the ground and takes a look at him.

The Sheriff turns to Laura.

Stiles thinks he asks her something but he doesn't really bother listening.

Until the words start filtering through his brain and he starts hearing glimpses like_ Derek_ and_ triggered_ and _panic attack_ and _breaking up_.

"Can you take me home?" Stiles interrupts them, voice rough and wobbly and detached.

Laura and his dad glance back at him, faces wearing something that looks too much like pity for Stiles' taste.

"Please?" Stiles whispers when they don't say anything.

The Sheriff's expression hardens as he looks from Stiles to Laura and back again before nodding, getting his hands under Stiles' arms and helping him up.

Stiles thinks he and Laura say something again, but he's too busy focusing on trying to get one foot in front of the other and not give in to the urge to curl up in the floor and die to pay attention to it.

And when his dad gets him in the cruiser and drives him to his house instead of Stiles' apartment, setting him up in his old childhood bedroom, Stiles doesn't really care to find out.

Because as he curls up on his side in bed and presses his face hard against his pillow, all that matters is that Derek's not right there with him.

* * *

"Talk," the Sheriff says, placing a glass full of whisky on top of the kitchen table in front of Stiles as he pushes him down into a chair.

"Dad-"

"It's been three days," his dad says, voice hard and face serious. "I didn't push you when we got home after Ms. Hale called _the station_ after me saying my son was having one of the worst panic attacks she's ever seen, because I didn't think you were in a state where talking about what happened would be a good idea and not send you into another episode. But it's been three days, and all I know about what happened is that it has something to do with Derek Hale, and I'm half convinced to hunt him down and shoot him."

"He didn't do anything wrong," Stiles shakes his head, his voice rough and tired, stomach churning as his mind goes back to the way Derek looked utterly destroyed as Stiles tried to make him understand that he had no idea who Kate was.

Stiles feels that if anyone did something wrong, it was him.

"He didn't do anything wrong," Stiles says again, lower this time, eyes glued to his glass and not his dad's face because he's pretty sure it doesn't take anyone super cop skills to see how fucking guilty and miserable he feels right now.

"Then you better start explaining," The Sheriff says, crossing his arms over his chest. "And by that I mean telling me everything."

Stiles takes a deep breath, grabbing the glass and taking a sip.

He doesn't really know if it helps or just makes him even more sick to his stomach.

And Stiles doesn't know where to start, not really.

Even after three days, everything is still too fresh and painful and jumbled up in his head.

Still too hazy, like it didn't happen to him, but to someone else.

"Stiles," his dad's voice is sharp and impatient, and when Stiles finally looks up at him is to see his eyes filled with concern.

Stiles hates himself a little bit for putting that look on his dad's face, for making him worry.

He still opens his mouth to say something, even though he doesn't know what.

Apparently his brain takes over for him, because just as his dad sighs and repeats his name like _he's_ hurting by seeing Stiles like this, he blurts out, "The woman Derek dated who used to verbally abused him and used him so she could get to his mom and snatch a better job position in the firm they worked at is related to Allison."

Silence.

Except for Stiles' mouth snapping shut with a click and the Sheriff's sharp intake of breath at his son's words.

Stiles bites down at his bottom lip, because now on top of the guilt he's feeling about yesterday, he can also add 'Telling Derek's Life Story to My Dad, the Sheriff, Without Permission' to the list.

The Sheriff just blinks at him.

And then grabs a glass for himself and the bottle of whisky sitting on top of the table and sits down in front of Stiles.

"Explain it to me," his dad says as he fills his glass. "Again. Right from the beginning."

And Stiles does.

He tells his dad everything.

About what he knows and what he suspects given how Derek sometimes acts around him, Derek's reaction when finding out Allison's last name is Argent and what came after - his dad resting a comforting hand on his shoulder when it all gets to be a little too much and Stiles has to stop and calm himself down-, and what Mrs. Hale and Isaac told him.

He tries to push past the guilt of talking about this without Derek's consent again.

Mostly, he succeeds.

But maybe that's just because of how fucking _scared_ he is when faced with the feeling of how much he cares about Derek.

So much so that he had one of the worst panic attacks of his fucking _life_ just because Derek was walking away from him.

Stiles wonders if that is a healthy response to what happened.

The prospect of a person not being in his life anymore sending him into such a frenzy he can't possibly get enough air in his lungs.

He doesn't think so.

But he stares at his dad and and thinks about the boxes with some of his mom's things still in the attic and guesses this is how Stilinskis do things.

With all consuming love and passion.

His dad listens to him without saying anything, face impassive, just taking it all in and offering him comfort when he needs him as Stiles talks until his voice is hoarse and his throat hurts and he doesn't have any more words to say to explain how fucked up everything is.

And how fucking lost he is.

And how much he just wants his dad to tell him _it's gonna be okay, son_ and _we'll find a way to fix it_.

Not that he wants to fix Derek.

He doesn't think he's broken, just a little bent out of shape and sharp at the edges and maybe with a few cracks here and there.

He just wants to be with him again.

"I can't tell you what to do," the Sheriff says after Stiles is done, his voice steady and low. "Because I don't know Derek and I don't know how your relationship works. All I can do is offer you a little bit of my personal experience, and that is to give them some time. That kind of emotional abuse? It takes years for someone to learn how to deal with it, and just because they know whatever was said to them isn't true, it doesn't mean they believe it all the time. They might have the happiest of lives and be surrounded by people they love, but sometimes there's still that little voice inside their heads telling them they don't deserve it. Or that they're going to do something to mess it up."

Stiles swallows hard at that, wondering if those were the kinds of things going through Derek's mind whenever they were together, especially right when they started dating.

If Derek thought he'd do or say something that'd make Stiles not like him or not want to be with him anymore.

He doesn't like that the answer he'll probably get to that is _yes_.

"One thing you _do_ have to do is talk to Allison," his dad keeps going. "From what you told me, she never mentioned having any other family than Chris, so it might be that this Kate person is not even related to her."

Stiles gives his dad a look.

Because the chances of an Argent not being _an Argent_ are pretty slim.

"And if it turns out that she is," his das says. "I think you should explain to Allison the reason why Derek reacted the way he did and, for his sake, ask her if there's any chance Kate might stop by and visit them here."

Stiles' entire body goes cold.

He hadn't thought of that.

He wonders if Derek did, and if that's one of the reasons why he-

_I can't be around them_.

Fuck.

"Fuck," Stiles curses in a rush of breath, shoulders slumping.

"Language," his dad scoffs, not that there's any heat behind his words. "But considering they never talked about her, I don't think we need to worry about that."

Stiles hopes with everything he has that his dad is right.

"I have to talk to Allison," Stiles says, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"You do," the Sheriff agrees, and then gives him a pointed look. "But if they don't want to tell you why Kate is not in the picture anymore, you have to remember you have no right to pry into their family life looking for answers without their permission."

Stiles presses his lips together.

His dad just stares.

"I have to talk to Allison," Stiles says again, voice firmer and steadier and _saner_ than it's been these past three days.

Because this is something he can be doing.

Searching for answers.

Putting the pieces together.

Looking for something concrete to help him explain to Derek and make him _listen_ and _believe_ Stiles had no idea about who Kate was.

And then he can-

"What do I do after I talk to Allison?" Stiles blinks at his dad. "Do I talk to Derek? Do I go see him? What?"

The Sheriff just gives him an unimpressed look when Stiles completely ignores his comment about not prying before letting his lips twitch up a little and say, "I raised you smart. I know you'll think of something."

Oh, yeah, like that _helps_.

"Sometimes I think you give me too much credit," Stiles huffs a dry laugh.

"Sometimes I think you don't give yourself _enough_," his dad, voice stern. "You love Derek, which means you won't be going into this without a thought. You don't want to hurt him more than he already is hurting, and that's what you'll have in mind while you're trying to figure out what to do after talking to your friend."

Stiles worries at his bottom lip, blinking a few times as he looks at his dad.

Because he's right.

He'd rather cut off his own arm than see that wrecked and pained look on Derek's face again, and that's why he's going to do everything he can to make sure he's okay.

First step: talking to Allison and getting some answers.

"Thanks, Dad," Stiles tells him, feeling a hundred times better now that he knows how he can go about all of this. "Thank you."

"Anytime, kid," his dad gives him a one armed hug, hand coming up to rest against the top of Stiles' head. "Now how about you drive home? Call your friends and let them know you're okay? Go back to work? Go back to living? Go back to thinking of a way to get your man back?"

Stiles snorts at the way his dad says _your man_, lips twitching up into a faint smile as he pats his dad on the chest and says, "You kicking me out, old man?"

The Sheriff shrugs, "It's been three days. I miss having the house to myself."

"I'll get out of your hair, then," Stiles says, rolling his eyes.

"You know you can always come to me, son," his dad tells him. "But you can't hide from your life, and you can't hide from your problems."

Stiles nods at him, taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly and saying, "Help me get my things?"

His dad rest his hand on his shoulder and says, "No."

Stiles gasps.

His dad grins.

Stiles sighs, "Fine. I'll do it on my own."

"And I'll walk you to your Jeep once you're ready to go."

Stiles' lips thin, knowing he'll have to talk to his friends about what happen and owe Danny one for driving his Jeep back to his dad's.

And do damage control with Scott and hope he's not super offended by Derek running the fuck away as soon as he learned who Scott's girlfriend was.

Stiles sighs, suddenly feeling all kinds of tired and worn out again.

His dad does walk him to his car, pulling him into a hug and telling him to call if he needs anything.

"Love you, son."

"Love you too, Dad," Stiles says, pulling the door shut and giving his dad one last wave as he pulls out of the garage and drives off.

And it's not until Stiles is halfway home that he realizes that when his dad said he loved Derek and that's what he was going to keep in mind while he thought this thing through, it didn't even cross Stiles' mind to tell him that he didn't.

* * *

"Thanks for getting my Jeep back," Stiles says, closing his locker as he sees Danny coming up to him and leaning against the wall.

"No problem," Danny tells him, eyes raking over Stiles' face. "I just want to know when you're going to tell me what happened."

It's Stiles' first day back at work after getting home from spending three days with his dad, and he's never been happier in his life to know he and Danny got scheduled on opposite shifts to Scott and Jackson.

Because even though Stiles might have figured out what the first step to sort this mess out is, he still has no idea how he's going to explain it all to Scott.

Who's been constantly texting and calling him since Stiles left Danny's apartment Saturday night.

Stiles will be forever grateful to his dad for not letting Scott in while he was staying there, telling him Stiles would come to him when he was ready to talk.

And that he should know better than try to puppy eye the Sheriff into letting him in.

Stiles loves his dad.

And he knows he can't really say anything to anyone before talking to Allison.

If she really is related to Kate, then there's a reason why she's been keeping that fact from them - her best friends _and_ possibly her boyfriend -, and Stiles doesn't want to open his mouth and say something he shouldn't.

He doesn't want to hurt her like that, anymore than he wants to hurt the other people he loves.

"I'll tell you what happened," Stiles says, mentally adding _as much as I can_. "But I need to talk to Allison first."

Danny blinks at him.

"What does she have to do with anything?"

"I can't say," Stiles tells him, and at the look Danny gives him he adds, "I really can't, Danny. Unless Allison tells me she's fine with it, I can't mention it. Actually, you know what?" Stiles waves a hand in front of him. "Forget this conversation ever happened."

Danny just keeps looking at him before he lets out a breath, long and exasperated.

"Can you tell me how you're doing, though?" Danny asks him. "It's kind of worrying when you run out on us, hide at your dad's, and refuse to talk to anyone for three days."

Stiles winces.

He really doesn't need any more guilt over what happened.

He's feeling it anyway.

"I'm sorry," Stiles says quietly. "I didn't mean to worry any of you. I just wasn't-"

Stiles trails off, lump quickly forming in his throat.

"It's okay," Danny says, even though it's so obviously _isn't_ by the frown he has on his face. "You don't have to talk about it right now."

"Thanks," Stiles offers him a grateful smile.

That slips when Danny raises an eyebrow and says, "Doesn't mean you don't have to talk about it later, though."

Stiles lets his head drop against his locker and he groans.

Danny just claps him on the back and smiles, "C'mon, we have work to do."

Stiles makes a face, but follows him to the ambulance.

Their first call ends up being an old man with respiratory problems, his neighbor waiting for them in front of the house when they arrive, and it doesn't take long before they're loading him into the ambulance and driving him to the hospital.

Danny doesn't try to ask him about what happened again, although he does keep sending him looks for the entire ride back to the station.

"Stop doing that," Stiles grumbles, shifting in his seat.

"Doing what?" Danny looks back at him innocently.

"You keep looking at me," Stiles scrunches up his nose "Like I'll crack and tell you everything if you just make me feel guilty enough."

Not that he already does.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Stiles almost believes him and thinks he's the one who's projecting.

But the way Danny's lips quirk up minutely tell him that he knows exactly what he's doing.

"Seriously, man," Stiles says, practically whining. "I can't tell you. It's not just about me. It's about Derek and Allison and I don't feel comfortable discussing it with people other than, you know,_ Derek and Allison_."

Stiles bites down on his bottom lip to keep himself from adding, _and my dad_.

And also to ignore the sharp stab in his chest at saying Derek's name.

"Alright," Danny nods. "I'll let it go."

"Thanks, buddy," Stiles says, relieved.

"For now."

"We just had this conversation," Stiles tells him, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Danny shrugs, "You're one of my best friends, Stiles. You can't blame me for wanting to know about what happened so I can help you with it if you need me to."

Stiles blinks at him, affection spreading through him at having Danny call him one of his best friends.

Because even though they've known each other for _years_, he rarely ever calls anyone other than Jackson, who he met when they were both in diapers, that way.

Stiles' smile feels more genuine on his lips.

"Stop with the face," Danny snaps.

"What face?" Stiles asks innocently, smile turning into a smirk.

"That face."

"What face?" Stiles asks again, and then points a finger at himself. "The face of someone who loves you and is lucky to have you as a friend? _This_ face?"

"I honestly don't know why I associate with you," Danny sighs.

"It's because sometimes I just don't know what to do with myself," Stiles says, trying for a joke but falling flat when his voice breaks at the end.

Danny doesn't call him on it, though, just purses his lips together and frowns, "Isn't that from a song?"

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times before mumbling, "Yes, it is."

Because now that he's thinking about it, the lyrics kind of fit together nicely with his life at the moment.

And isn't that depressing?

"Better Dusty Springfield than your dad catching you doing that bit from Rocky Horror again," Danny muses out loud.

"Oh _god_," Stiles groans, now too busy being embarrassed to feel sorry for himself. "That was _horrible_."

Stiles was sixteen.

And he forgot to lock the bathroom door while showering.

His dad came barging in just as Stiles was singing the end bit of _Sweet Transvestite_ at the top of his lungs.

And then apologized and said they needed to have a talk.

Incidentally, that's how Stiles came out.

And until this day his dad cringes every time Halloween comes around and he sees someone dressed as one of the characters from the movie.

Which is maybe why Stiles likes to dress as Dr. Frank-N-Furter every year.

"I think it was priceless," Danny grins. "I, for one, would like to have video evidence of it."

Stiles sputters, "I don't know why people think you're nice."

"It's the dimples," Danny says seriously, face splitting into another grin when Stiles barks out a surprised laugh.

At least he knows he can count on his friends to make him laugh.

When they get to the firehouse is to have Danny direct him to one of the couches at the far end corner of the big rec room, making sure they're sitting somewhere the few firefighters hanging around the kitchen can't hear them.

"Do you already know who you plan on talking to Allison without Scott knowing?" Danny asks him as they both flop down on the couch.

Stiles chews at his lip and plays with the hem of his shirt and avoids Danny's eyes.

Because he kind of does have a plan.

You see, the thing about Scott and Allison is that they tell each other pretty much everything.

Whatever way Stiles is going to play this, he's going to need to take that into consideration. The best way to make sure Allison won't say anything to Scott about Stiles wanting to talk to her is to do it while Scott's working.

Like, let's say, tonight.

"Please tell me you're not going to stalk her."

Stiles looks at Danny, offended.

"I'm not going to _stalk_ her," Stiles says, and then adds, "And risk getting my arm broken when she realises I'm following her."

Danny smiles.

And it's pure evil.

"Plus, it's not like I don't already know what time she's off and what kind of car she drives and where she lives," Stiles shrugs.

"If I didn't know you, I'd think you're creepy."

"And yet, you'll still help me."

"I didn't agree to anything yet," Danny raises an eyebrow at him.

Only to have Stiles give him his best doe-eye look, bottom lip pursed forward in a pout.

Danny makes a face at him, "Fine. What do I have to do?"

"I'm gonna need you talk to Scott and keep him from seeing me so I can sneak out and drive to the hospital when our shift ends," Stiles says in the most serious tone he can muster. "You can use your soothing voice if you want to."

"My soothing voice," Danny says flatly.

"Yes," Stiles gives him a sharp nod. "You know, that sultry tone it gets whenever you're trying to convince someone you know what's best for them and that everything is going to be okay and that _no sir, that pipe through your chest is not going to kill you_."

"That was one time," Danny protests. "And we'd just gotten our certificates!"

"I'm not saying anything," Stiles raises his hands in surrender. "You know, considering that guy now has a wife and a kid and a scar the size of your finger on his shoulder and always sends us a batch of cookies on the anniversary of his rescue. It's just that you're the one who kept him calm just by talking while the guys were trying to figure out a way to get him out, and that's a wonderful quality in a person, Danny. Yes, you shouldn't have said that to him, but you still should be proud."

"You don't need to compliment me to get what you want," Danny says after a few beats of silence, sounding uncomfortable.

"I would _never_," Stiles says, tone completely serious. And then he breaks into a grin, "But that's good to know."

"You're a horrible person, Stilinski."

"I know, it keeps me awake at night," Stiles grins. "But you'll do it?"

"Yes, I'll do it," Danny sighs. "But you'll owe me one."

"When Jackson undoubtedly says something to offend Ethan and Ethan thinks it's best if you guys break up because your best friend is a douche, I'll help you."

Danny's lips thin but he doesn't try to say anything in Jackson's favor, just gives him a tilt of his chin in acknowledgement and says, "Thank you."

"Any time."

Danny doesn't say anything for a few seconds, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares at Stiles consideringly.

"You know Scott won't be happy when he finds out about this," Danny says. "Especially when you refuse to tell us any of it."

Stiles scrubs a hand over his face, "I know, but I really can't say anything before I talk to Allison. Not even Scott."

Danny nods, "So I'll just keep my mouth shut and let you three handle it between each other."

"Yep," Stiles gives him a thumbs up. "And that's why even though Scott's my best friend, _you_ are my favorite."

"I'm honored," Danny deadpans.

"As you should be."

They don't really talk after that, Danny going to the kitchen to get some water and being brought into conversation with a few of the firefighters while Stiles just stays where he is and wonders if he's doing the right thing.

He kind of feels like it's the only thing he can do right now, try and get some answers himself before he goes to Derek.

He just hopes Allison is willing to offer them.

The rest of his shift goes by in kind of a blur, Stiles' mind focused on keeping Scott from talking to him when he leaves and having a conversation with Allison that probably won't end well for either of them.

His dad's words about not prying sometimes come to mind, but Stiles pretends he's not listening.

Danny comes through for him when they clock out and Stiles hears Scott's bike driving into the parking lot, Danny giving him a significant look and Stiles mouthing the words _I owe you_ before Danny jogs up to Scott.

He goes as far as putting a hand on Scott's shoulder and positioning them so Scott has his back to the door, leaving Stiles with plenty opportunity to get to his car without being seen.

Stiles makes a mental note to stock up the ambulance for as long as Danny wants him to.

And to make Scott Derek's Taco Sandwiches in hopes he forgives him for this.

At the first stoplight on his way to the hospital he takes his phone out of his pocket and types a quick text to Allison, worrying at his bottom lips as he hits send.

**To: Allison**

_i have something of MAJOR IMPORTANCE to talk to you about so i'm coming to pick you up from work_

**To: Allison**

_dinner included if we're still speaking after our conversation_

He doesn't get a response from her, not that he's expecting it.

And not that he needs one when he finds her leaning against her car as he walks around the lot after parking his Jeep, looking for the spot with the little white plaque with the words Dr. Argent written on it.

"Is everything okay?" Allison frowns at him as he stops in front of her, hands deep in his pockets. "Scott told me about Saturday."

And Stiles kind of feels like an asshole, at this moment.

To have Allison standing there and looking worried about him when he's about to ask her why she's been lying to them.

Well, not really lying, just, you know, keeping vital information about herself from her closest friends.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually," Stiles scratches at the back of his neck. "I just don't really know where to start."

Allison gives him a long look before unlocking her car and opening the door, climbing into the backseat and waving a hand for Stiles to get inside.

Stiles closes the door behind him and takes a deep breath before facing Allison, taking him the way her eyebrows are raised in curiosity.

"Now that we're comfortable," Allison says, clasping her hands together and raising an eyebrow at Stiles. "Why don't you start by telling me why you waited to come talk to me when you knew Scott wouldn't be around and I'd have no way of contacting him?"

Stiles purses his lips.

It's not like he's surprised by Allison figuring it out, but it still doesn't mean he likes being called on his shit.

Unless Derek is the one doing it.

"It's because I want to talk to you about your family," Stiles tells her, noticing the way Allison's expression turns carefully blank.

Stiles tries not to feel like he's doing something really really wrong.

He doesn't really succeed.

"I don't see why you have to get me alone to ask me about my dad," Allison says, sounding casual.

"I'm not here for your dad, Ally," Stiles says quietly. "I'm here because I want to know if you're related to a woman named Kate Argent."

Stiles doesn't, not really, but the thinning of Allison's lips at the mention of Kate's name is all the confirmation Stiles needs that Allison _knows her_.

And when Allison opens her mouth to speak, Stiles knows she's about to deny it.

The way her eyebrows twitch gives her away.

"I don't know why you've been keeping this from us, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Stiles tells her, even though he kind of really wants to know. "The reason why I'm here without Scott knowing is because I have no idea if he knows about this or not, and I didn't want to mention anything and complicate things between you two in case he didn't. And also because this has something to do with me and Derek and what happened Saturday night at Danny's."

Allison blinks at him at that, startled. "Derek?"

"Yes," Stiles nods, licking his lips. "There's a very specific reason why Derek reacted the way he did that night, and it has to do with a woman named Kate Argent."

Allison's expression turns uncertain, her fingers coming to play with the silver bracelet around her left wrist as she looks at him.

"Can I ask what that reason is?"

Stiles swallows, "You can, but I don't feel comfortable answering."

"Will you do it anyway?"

Stiles stares at her, taking in the hard twist of her lips and the nervous twitch of her fingers and the hard set of her shoulders and says, "I can only tell you that they used to date back when he lived in New York, and that it didn't end well."

And it's like Stiles' worst nightmares are confirmed when Allison's face falls, eyes going big and scared, skin turning pale.

"That's why he ran," Allison whispers. "When Scott told him my last name, that's why he ran."

Stiles nods, not really trusting himself to say anything.

Especially because saying something means thinking about Derek running from him and the look on his face and he just-

Stiles _can't_, okay?

"That's why I wanted to talk to you," Stiles tells her, voice low. "You don't have to tell me anything about her, but I have to let Derek know if there's a possibility that you two are close enough that she'll decide to drop by for a visit."

Allison's response is immediate, head shaking and eyes turning hard as she spits, "She won't. My dad would shoot her first."

Stiles blinks at her, startled.

Even Allison seems a little bit surprised at her outburst, but quickly lets out a breath to calm herself down and stares Stiles straight in the eye, a look of determination spread across her face.

Stiles thinks that whatever she's about to say is going to change his life forever.

And not in a good way.

"I'm going to tell you a story," Allison says, jaw set. "And it's not gonna be a happy one."

Definitely not in a good way.

"You don't have to," Stiles says, not really because he doesn't want to know but because he thinks he doesn't want to hear it.

Any of it.

"I want to," Allison gives him a sad look. "Scott already knows about it, and from what you just told me I think you should know about it, too."

Stiles has to admit he feels a little bit relieved at knowing this is something he won't have to keep from Scott.

One last thing to add to his pile of guilt.

"That still doesn't mean I'll tell you everything," Allison says, eyes going from Stiles' face to a spot behind his shoulder. "There are some things I don't like to talk about, ever, with anyone. Not even Scott."

Stiles' heart constricts in his chest, stomach flipping, mouth going dry.

He kind of wishes he'd listen to his dad.

So, you know, he wouldn't have to listen to _this_.

"I won't ask you any questions," Stiles tells her, because he really doesn't want to know more than she's willing to share. "You can tell me whatever you think I should know or you're comfortable with saying, but I won't ask you anything more about it."

Allison nods at him, pulling her legs up on the seat and close to her chest, her chin resting on top of her knee.

"Kate is my dad's sister," Allison starts, and even though Stiles was expecting it, to have confirmation that they are indeed related is like being slapped in the face. "She's a lot closer to my age than his, so growing up she was more like an older sister to _me_ than anything else. Especially because my dad didn't have a good relationship with _his_ father."

Stiles presses his lips together.

He doesn't like that tone, the implication, the words that are coming out of Allison's mouth as she keeps talking.

"Dad always welcomed Kate into our house because of that," Allison keeps going. "Because if she was with us it meant she wasn't spending any time with him."

See?

This is not good.

In fact, this is very _very_ bad.

Something must show on his face because Allison just nods her head and says, "You know where this is going."

Stiles shakes his head, "I'm not going to assume anything."

Like the reason behind Kate being the way she was with Derek was because that's how she grew up.

Like she didn't think her words and actions were a big deal because that was what she was used to, and that was the only way she knew how to show someone she cared about them.

Like she was only following the cycle she found herself in, because that was how her father treated her and that was how she would treat everyone else.

Like Derek.

And maybe even Allison.

"I'm not going to pretend I know what my grandfather was like, because I never had any contact with him. Dad always made sure of that," Allison says, shaking her head a little. "He wasn't so lucky with getting Kate away from him, and I have a pretty good idea what Kate went through while growing up and what having him around did to her."

Stiles holds his breath, hands clenched so tight his nails are biting marks into his palm.

"Mostly because I went through it, too," Allison whispers, and Stiles' stomach drops. "Because of her."

"Allison," Stiles rasps out, leaning forward but freezing when Allison scoots further away from him and shakes her head.

Fuck everything, seriously.

"You said you weren't going to ask any questions," Allison huffs out something torn between a laugh and a sob, thumb wiping the wetness in her eyes. "She was just- God, I hate that I loved her so much. She was older and pretty and she always let me play dress up with her clothes, and she used to do my makeup and my hair and it was_ so much fun_. It was what I thought having a real sister would be like. Even when she was mean. _Especially_ when she was mean, because the girls at school were always complaining about how annoying_ their_ older sisters were, so I never thought there was anything wrong with the way she treated me."

Stiles looks helplessly at her as Allison makes another sound like she doesn't know whether to find all of this funny or heartbreaking.

Stiles goes with heartbreaking, imagining little Ally looking up to someone only to have them destroy her.

He thought it'd be impossible for him to hate this woman more, but as it turns out? He totally can.

"It wasn't bad when I was a kid, but as I started getting older? It was little things at first, like comments about how her clothes didn't fit me well or my hair was a mess to work with or my skin was too bad to bother to use good makeup on. Then it was about how embarrassed she was to take me places with her and hang out with people she knew because of the way I walked or talked or dressed or-," Allison cutts of, shaking her head. "It was like I wasn't smart enough or pretty enough or sophisticated enough to be in her presence. And the mere fact that she still wasted her time with me was like this- this _gift_ she was giving me."

Stiles closes his eyes, thinking if Derek ever felt the same way.

Stiles thinks he might have.

"It was like I couldn't do anything right. Like the more I tried the more I messed up until I got so anxious whenever my dad would tell me she'd be spending some time with us that I'd-," Allison stops again, entire body locked tight. "It was bad, Stiles. Really bad."

Stiles gulps, hands still clenched tight as he stares at her.

"My mom was the one who found out," Allison says quietly. "Right before she got sick. Kate was at our house, visiting, and my mom got home earlier than usual that day. She saw Kate-," Allison lets out a slow breath. "She heard. She heard what kind of things Kate used to say to me. That night when my dad got home they told me to go to my room and turn on the music as loud as I could. The next morning Kate wasn't there anymore, and I never saw her again."

Stiles has a newfound respect for Mr. Argent right now.

He'll even go as far as saying he likes the guy.

"It took me a while before I could understand that what she was doing was wrong and I didn't deserve it," Allison says looking at him straight in the eye as if willing him to understand something. "That it wasn't normal for people to treat each other like that. And that there was nothing wrong with me."

"It took me a while before I could understand that what she was doing was wrong and I didn't deserve it," Allison says looking at him straight in the eye as if willing him to understand something. "That it wasn't normal for people to treat each other like that. And that there was nothing wrong with me."

Stiles blinks at her, thinking he gets it.

Like Allison is trying to tell him that maybe Derek's not there yet, at the point of realizing Kate was the one in the wrong, not him.

"So the only thing I can tell you is that Kate is not a good person," Allison keeps going. "She might be like that because of my grandfather and the way she was raised, but that still doesn't excuse what she did to me. And I'm not going to assume Derek went through the same thing as I did when he was with her, but I understand that what happened to me wasn't my fault, and that I wasn't doing anything wrong. I know that, and I understand that. But I can't tell you Derek does, too, since we're different people who deals with things in a different way, and I don't know what happened to him."

Allison lets that last statement hang between them for a few heavy seconds, Stiles torn between wanting to hug her or open the car door and throw up in the middle of the parking lot, before sighing and letting her head drop back against the back seat window with a thud.

At least he has some answers now, a little bit of understanding about who Kate is and the kinds of things she-

He gets it, even though he wishes he didn't.

Allison sharing her story makes him understand Derek's a bit more, even though he doesn't have all the facts yet.

"You know I can't tell you about what happened to him," Stiles says quietly, shaking his head a little. "Or if anything happened to him," Stiles quickly adds when Allison looks back at him.

"I don't want you to tell me," Allison tells him. "Derek can tell me himself, someday, if he wants to. But I can assure you that Kate won't be stepping foot in Beacon Hills. Not unless she wants to deal with my dad. And me. And I can tell you that if she does, she won't be coming out unscratched."

Stiles can at least breathe a sigh a relief at that, knowing that there's no risk of Derek bumping into her in town.

And also feel a little bit scared of Allison and her family.

"You sound like you're from the mob," Stiles remarks, blinking at her when Allison gives him a faint smirk.

"They taught me a lot more than first aid when I spent my summers in France growing up," Allison tells him. "I'm not supposed to talk about it."

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times before saying in a weak voice, "Okay."

Because, really, what's he supposed to say to_ that_?

They don't say anything for a few seconds, just sit there in Allison's car, thinking about the conversation they just had and what was shared and the meaning of it all.

"I'm kind of feeling better now that I've told you this," Allison remarks, sounding a little surprised. "Like when I told Scott. It makes me feel like I'm lighter, somehow."

"Why didn't you before?" Stiles asks her, genuinely curious. "It's not like it matters to us who your family is."

Allison gives him a small and pleased smile, expression turning serious as she says, "You know how hard it is to tell someone you love that you're not the person they think you are. That something happened to you that scarred you and made you a little bit different than other people. It's hard to tell them that there are pieces of who you are they don't know yet, and it's scary to think that once they learn about them, they won't love you the same way anymore."

Stiles' breath hitches at that, wondering if part of the reason Derek hasn't told him the whole story about Kate yet is because he's afraid it'll make Stiles not want to be with him, like telling him is just another thing that he could be doing wrong.

Like he was avoiding it all this time because he didn't want them to end.

And that the reason why he told Stiles he couldn't do this was because of the possibility of it all crashing down on top of their heads, so he took the plunge before Stiles had a chance to and walked away.

Because he was scared of losing Stiles, of losing them.

Even though breaking up with him would be the last thing Stiles would do.

And Stiles' heart is breaking all over again.

"There's nothing you could possibly tells us that would make us like you any less, Allison," Stiles says softly, wrapping a hand around Allison's ankle and squeezing it. "You're one of our best friends, you're family, and we love you. Nothing's gonna change that."

The smile Allison gives him now is still small but it's brighter, eyes wet as she looks at him and nods, "Thanks, Stiles."

Stiles shakes his head, "Thank you for telling me. You didn't have to, and I can only imagine how hard it was for you to do it, so thank you for trusting me enough to say something."

It also wasn't something easy for him to hear, and it hurts, but he's glad he did it.

"It's okay," Allison tells him, and when Stiles makes a face at her she huffs. "Well, I mean, it's not okay, but I feel better now that I've done it. I didn't think that I would, but I do. So thank you for that."

"Any time," Stiles pats her ankle. "Really. You're my best friend's girl, but more than that, you're _my friend_. And friends help each other out. So if you ever need someone to talk to or go to the shooting range with, I'm your man."

The smile Allison's gives him is more genuine now, dimples showing as she lets her legs down and leans in to pull Stiles into a hug.

Stiles makes sure to hug her back twice as hard.

"I know you got more than you were hoping for when you decided to talk to me," Allison says, letting him go. "I just hope it helped with, you know, you and Derek."

Stiles doesn't say anything back.

Because even though Allison answered some of his questions about Kate and _did_ help him understand Derek a little bit more, he still doesn't know anything about Kate and Derek together and what happened between them.

Not really, anyway.

So Stiles offers her a soft smile and says, "How about I take you out to dinner and we talk about lighter things while eating hamburgers and drinking milkshakes?"

"I like," Allison grins. "And I've been meaning to tell you about the guy who got a bullet vibrator stuck up his ass."

Stiles snorts, smiling back.

His _friends_, really.

* * *

"I'm ready for you to apologize to me," Scott says as he flops down on Stiles' couch and crosses his arms over his chest.

Stiles fights down the urge to tackle Scott to the ground and hug the shit out of him.

Because this is so much like him, giving Stiles the time he needs to figure his shit out; and coming to him when Scott's ready to forgive him for being a shity friend and keeping things from him.

Their friendship is a thing of beauty and strange interaction, and Stiles thinks he's about the luckiest person in the world to have Scott McCall as his best friend.

So Stiles forgets all about fighting urges and launches himself at Scott, arms wrapping around his waist and face pressed against his shoulder as they both topple to his living room floor.

His talk with Allison yesterday left him with too many things to think about, a sick and twisted feeling in his stomach, and emotionally drained.

He really only had time for a quick shower before he fell face down on his bed, so he hasn't had any real time to think about anything he's learned from their conversation or decide what he's going to do next.

Mostly because he was just in his second cup of coffee and still not entirely awake yet when Scott made his appearance.

Which is something he's now glad about, as they roll around on the floor and laugh.

Because it means he won't have to figure this out alone.

His best buddy will help him with it.

"I'm sorry," Stiles says, voice muffled by Scott's shirt. "I just didn't know if I could tell you anything before I talked to Allison."

Scott sobers up at that, laugh cutting off.

Stiles lets him get a hand on his shoulder and push him off of him, both of them sitting up and moving so they can rest their backs against Stiles couch.

Scott just stares at him for a few seconds, eyes serious, lips pressed thin, "Allison told me she told you about-"

Scott doesn't finish the sentence, just waves a hand in front of him.

Stiles nods, voice low when he answers, "Yeah. I'm sorry she- And you- I just, no one should have to go through that."

Scott gives Stiles' knee a pat, "I agree with you, man. It almost-," Scott swallows, shaking his head. "It wasn't easy when she told me about it. I didn't really have one of the best reactions."

Stiles bumps their shoulders together, showing Scott he understands.

"It brought back some not-so-happy memories," Scott says, voice dropping low. "So it wasn't- I had a hard time knowing she went through some of the same stuff mom did."

"I'm sorry, buddy," Stiles says, pressing his lips together and leaning against Scott's side, making sure his best friend knows he's there.

Because even though it's been years since Scott's dad was last in his life, he left some pretty heavy shit for Scott to deal with behind.

Scott nods at him, "So I'm here if you need someone to talk to about-," Scott makes vague hand gestures again. "You know, after you apologize to me."

Stiles snorts, turning his head so he can stare at Scott, "I thought I just did."

"Nope," Scott shakes his head. "You apologized for my shitty childhood, but not for what you did."

Stiles lets out a long sigh, humor fading as he stares at his best friend.

"I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls," Stiles starts. "And kept avoiding you. And got Danny to distract you so I could sneak out and go talk to your girlfriend without you knowing it. I just didn't know if you knew about-," the hand gestures are catching. "So I didn't want to say anything and cause you and Allison to fight. So I figured if I could talk to her before I talked to you, it'd be easier to explain things."

"I don't support your methods," Scott gives him a long look. "But I can understand them."

"Does this mean you forgive me?" Stiles stares at him, eyes shining with hope.

"Sure," Scott says, and then adds, "If you make me breakfast for a week."

Stiles wrinkles his nose up at him, but at the arched eyebrow stare Scott gives him, he sighs and nods.

"If that's what I have to do to make you love me again," Stiles eyes him dramatically. "Then so be it."

Scott grins at him, warm and bright and fond.

Stiles loves him a little bit more at that moment.

That is, until his face goes all serious and business again and he says, "Now are you ready to talk about what happened?"

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times, ducking his head, "Are you going to let it go if I say no?"

"I think it'll help if you do," Scott tells him. "Talk about it, I mean. I know talking to someone helped a lot when Allison told me about her."

Stiles frowns, "But we didn't talk about Allison."

"I know," Scott says, shrugging. "I talked to my mom."

Stiles blinks at him, surprised.

You'd think people would avoid at all costs mentioning that sort of thing to Mrs. McCall, but Stiles guesses she has an unique perspective on the subject.

And an extremely personal understanding of it.

So maybe she's the best one to go to when dealing with stuff like this.

Stiles wonders if he should talk to her, too.

Or if he got the equivalent of that talk when he spoke to Allison, and the other side of the spectrum when he spoke to his dad.

"I don't really-," Stiles starts, stops, licks his lips. "I don't feel comfortable talking about it."

"About what happened or about why it happened?"

And this is why Scott is one of his best friends.

Because he gets _him_.

"About why it happened," Stiles admits. "I can tell you the same I told Allison, and that is that Derek and Kate used to date."

"And it didn't end well," Scott fills in.

Stiles nods.

And wishes he actually knew more than that.

Knew what happened and the extent of the damage she caused.

He wishes Derek had told him.

He hopes Derek will tell him, someday, maybe after Stiles explains to him he doesn't run the risk of seeing Kate if he hangs out with Stiles and his friends.

"That's why he reacted the way he did," Stiles tells him. "When he found out about Allison. Because he can't-," Stiles swallows hard. "He said he can't risk seeing Kate again. Can't risk being with someone that could be close to her."

Stiles' eyes fill with tears as he remembers it, Derek's face and Derek's broken voice and Derek's entire body shaking as he apologized over and over and over again for a mistake that wasn't his.

"That's why you went to talk to Allison," Scott says in a rush of breath, understanding. "Because you wanted to make sure that if she was related to Kate, she wouldn't be around here where Derek could see her."

Stiles nods, not really trusting himself to say anything.

"I didn't-," Stiles takes a deep breath. "I didn't ask her about- I told her she didn't have to tell me anything, that I just wanted to know if they were close enough Kate would stop by for a visit, so I could let Derek know. But Allison said she thought I should know."

"About what happened to her," Scott fills in.

Stiles nods again.

"Because then you'd understand a little more about what might have happened to Derek," Scott still finishes for him.

"Yeah," Stiles rasps out. "I know- With what you and Mrs. McCall-"

"You understand," Scott nods. "A little bit, but you understand what it does to someone to be around that kind of thing."

"But it's not the same, though," Stiles blinks at him. "I think that's why Allison decided to tell me. Because even though they're different people who deal with things in a different way, it was still the same person who did this to them."

"I know it sounds a little bit selfish of me," Scott says after a few beats of silence. "But I'm kind of glad you know now. I think one of the reasons why it was hard for me to come to terms with it was because I couldn't talk to my best friend about it."

Stiles gives Scott a small smile, wobbly but still genuine.

"I know now," Stiles tells him. "You can talk to me now. If it gets- If it ever gets overwhelming."

Scott nods at him, eyes intent on his face. "And you know you can talk about it with me, right? This kind of thing weights in a person, and I want you to know neither you or Derek have to deal with it alone, okay?"

"Okay," Stiles breathes out, letting his head drop against Scott's shoulder. "Thanks, buddy."

"You're welcome," Scott pats his shoulders. "And do you know what you're next step is going to be? Now that you talked to Ally and know that unless Kate wants to pick a fight with the hospital, the fire department, and Mr. Argent, she'll stay away?"

Stiles opens and closes his mouth, stomach churning with unease.

He knows he has to talk to Derek, that that was the entire point of going to Allison and finding out about all of this shit.

But he's kind of terrified out of his freaking mind of doing so.

It still feels too-

Too recent and fresh and painful and raw to think about Derek and what happened.

It's only been five days and every time Stiles thinks about it, it gets a little hard to breathe.

So he knows that's the next logical step, to go to him and explain what happen and tell him he doesn't have to worry, but Stiles doesn't know if he can do it.

Scott, who has his eyes trained on Stiles' face, must see his struggle in his expression, because he jabs him in the rib with a finger and says, "You can do it. If it means protecting Derek and making sure he's okay, I know you can do it. You love him, and you'd never let anything, like yourself being scared shitless, keep you from being there for him."

Stiles opens his mouth to say Scott has too much faith in him, but quickly snaps it back shut as the meaning of Scott's words sink in.

And how his dad told him almost the same thing.

And he didn't deny it.

Because there was no reason to deny it.

Because he-

"I love Derek," Stiles whispers, eyes going round as he blinks at Scott. "I'm in love with Derek."

"Do you need to lie down?" Scott asks him, lips twitching and having too much fun because of Stiles' pain. "I find that sometimes helps when the awful sense of realization sets in."

"Now it's not the time to paraphrase Young Adult authors," Stiles says, voice a little faint.

Scott swallows down his laugh, eyes glinting as he says, "If you say so."

"I do say so," Stiles hisses. "Because this is not funny, Scott."

And it really, really, really fucking isn't.

Because it took Stiles _this long_ to realize that he loves Derek.

And it actually took Derek walking away from-

It just really fucking isn't, and he doesn't appreciate Scott's attitude right now.

"I'm sorry," Scott sobers up immediately when Stiles tells him as much. "I thought you knew."

"You knew," Stiles points an accusatory finger at him. "My dad knew. I think Allison figured it out when I went to talk to her. But me? Nope. I didn't know. Not until now. Right now, that is. At this moment in time," Stiles swallows hard, voice dropping low. "When I have no idea if he- And we- And if it's-"

"Hey," Scott says, expression serious. "No. None of that, okay? Things will work out."

"How do you know?" Stiles tries to snap at him, but his voice comes out weak and whiny instead.

"Because I saw the way he kept looking at you through dinner," Scott says, tone serious. "It was like the way your dad looked at your mom. The way I look at Allison. He might not know it yet, or he might be scared of admitting it, but he loves you. It was written all over his face for anyone to see."

"Except me," Stiles says softly.

"You are known to not notice things unless they're being waved in front of your face," Scott points. "Or being explained to you. With the help of visual aids."

Stiles elbows him in the ribs.

That doesn't make it any less true, though.

"Seriously, though," Scott says, hand squeezing his shoulder. "You can do this. You can go to him and explain and you two will be okay again."

Stiles swallows hard, hoping to hell Scott is right.

Because that's all he wants, for them to be okay again.

It's only been five days and he misses Derek so much it hurts sometimes.

But for things to be okay he needs to do as Scott believes he can do and go talk to him.

Even though he's scared out of his mind.

Not that that really matters, because in the end, the possibility of having Derek again if he just takes this chance wins out over his own fear of rejection every time.

Still doesn't mean he's not anxious as fuck about it and will probably have about three anxiety induced panic attacks over all of this and what he has to do later.

Much later.

When Scott is not here to witness it.

"Okay," Stiles nods, licking his lips, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "I can do this."

He doesn't know whether he's trying to convince himself or Scott about this.

No.

That's a lie.

He's trying to convince himself but he's not really doing a very good job at it.

"Yes, you can," Scott says, giving him a significant look. "You're going to talk to Derek and everything will work itself out."

Scott is doing a better job, though.

Sort of.

You know, in the way that it is always nice to have people around you who have faith in you, but where you can't help but wonder if they're only saying this because they're your friends and love you and it's kind of their job.

And then he remembers his eighteenth birthday when he told Scott he was going to get his nipples pierced because he heard they make people's nipples really sensitive, and really, _how awesome is that_, and Scott laughed so hard he fell ass down on his mom's coffee table and broke it.

Mrs. McCall wasn't happy.

And neither was Stiles, when he went ahead and got an appointment, only to go limp in his chair and slide to the floor as soon as he took off his shirt and Mike, the body piercer, came at him with a needle.

Scott still has pictures of him passed out on the cold tattoo parlor floor with dots on his nipples from where Mike marked where the needle would go in.

That was _not_ one of Stiles' proudest moments.

But with this?

Maybe Scott is right.

Maybe Stiles really can do this.

"Yep," Stiles nods at him, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach. "I'm going to talk to Derek."

And, hopefully, everything will work itself out.

Otherwise, Stiles has no idea what he's going to do.

* * *

**a/n**: i don't think stiles' panic attack is very descriptive? it happens before the first break in this chapter. i focused more on writing what was going on inside his head at the moment than the physical part of it, but i still thought i should let everyone know.

the discussion of past emotional abuse happens between stiles and allison, and even though allison doesn't go into much detail about what happened to her - she mentions how she used to be subjected to degrading comments about the way she looked and acted - it still might upset some people.

there's also talk of kate suffering the same kind of abuse from her father, but it's mostly speculation on allison's part, since she never had any type of contact with him to know what kind of person he was. it's a pretty good guess, though. like, spot on, really.

and scott mentions his parents's relationship, and the abuse his mom suffered while with his dad.


	8. Chapter 8: Interlude

**a/n**: not so much of an interlude as **a chapter from derek's pov**.

it didn't feel right to continue the story without giving you a glimpse as to how he dealt with everything, so i hope you like it.

if things are a little bit confusing or the narrative keeps going back and forth on the same subjects, it's because i tried my best to portray derek's thinking. **there's a lot of misplaced guilt, shame, and self-loathing here**, and his line of thought might be repetitive at times, but it's because this is a situation that is both old and new to him, and derek doesn't really know how to handle it.

because he's focusing so much on not fucking up, he ends up putting himself in situations where he does just that. it's a pattern he hasn't learned how to break, not yet, and i hope i'm successful in guiding derek through figuring out not everything is on him.

there's a lot of talk about that here, and even though things might seem like they're moving a little fast at times, i know people don't come to terms and learn to cope with years of trauma just by having a few conversations with someone. i promise i won't magically make derek feel like everything's alright and he's better, and i hope you don't hate me for it. :3

* * *

Derek doesn't remember the ride back to his loft.

He doesn't remember Cora opening the door and snaking an arm around his waist and helping him up and out of the car.

He doesn't remember her leading him to the elevator, the ride up, and Isaac waiting for them with the door opened, eyes shadowed and arms crossed over his chest.

He doesn't remember them getting him inside the loft, walking him to his bed and pushing him down so he's lying on top of the mattress, taking off his boots and pulling his legs up on the bed.

All he remembers are Stiles' words echoing through his head.

_You never even told me her name._

He turns on his side and curls into himself, anger and shame and self-loathing burning deep in his gut as he presses his face against the pillow.

Because it's true.

Derek didn't.

He never, not once, told Stiles his ex-girlfriend's last name was Argent.

Kate Argent, to be exact.

_Argent_.

Just like Stiles' friend, Allison.

_Dr. Argent_.

Because if he had, if Derek had told Stiles who she was, if he had opened his mouth and said those two little words to him, it would have made a world of difference.

He wouldn't have been caught off guard, and he wouldn't have ran, and he wouldn't have reacted the way he did.

He wouldn't have made a scene, and he wouldn't have embarrassed Stiles in front of the people he loves.

What happened tonight?

It's on him.

Because Derek _never told Stiles her name_.

Just like Stiles said he didn't.

Because Derek was scared that once Stiles heard the whole story, he wouldn't want to be with him anymore.

He'd see just how messed up Derek is and decide he doesn't want anything to do with him anymore.

But in the end, Derek didn't even have to say anything.

He went right ahead and fucked everything up as soon as he found out Stiles was best friends with an Argent.

He went right ahead and fucking _ran_, without saying anything, and proceeded to have a fucking breakdown in the middle of the street and in front of Stiles.

He's angry at himself for reacting the way he did, and he's embarrassed for Stiles having to deal with it, and he's _resigned_ because this is what he does.

Or better yet, what he doesn't do.

Because no matter how hard he tries, he never seems to do anything right.

And he can't believe he fooled himself into thinking things would be different with Stiles, can't believe he thought he could be good enough for once, could have this, could be worthy of the happiness he felt whenever they were together.

He should have known it would all come crashing down on him in the end, because he would do something to fuck it up.

He just never thought it would be this.

He always figured Stiles would have a problem with how Derek doesn't really say much, or how he'd stop finding Derek's awkwardness and the way he blushes cute and start thinking it's irritating, or how he'd grow tired of having to wait for Derek to have sex with him.

But no, what happened is that Derek freaked the fuck out and embarrassed Stiles in front of his closest friends and Derek's sisters.

He wonders what Stiles must be thinking of him right now, if he's as disgusted with Derek as Derek is with himself; if he finally realized Derek's too much handle, has too much baggage, can't never do anything _right_.

And to think that if he actually hadn't _done_ anything to fuck it all up, it would only be a matter of time before things between them ended, anyway.

Because Stiles is best friends with an _Argent_, which means he probably has some form of contact with Kate.

And Derek can't risk being anywhere near her again.

He hears the door opening and sliding shut, low and rushed voices saying words he doesn't bother figuring out, too busy trying to meld his face with the mattress and make himself as small as possible so no one has to deal with him.

With how much of a fucking failure and disappointment and pathetic he is.

Derek doesn't realize the voices sound a lot closer until he feels the bed dip and someone rest a hand on his shoulder.

Which immediately makes him flinch back, because his sisters or Isaac shouldn't have to see him like this, shouldn't have to deal with him when he's this way.

His shame grows, thinking of how this is the second time he's put them through this.

First with Kate, and now with-

Now with Stiles.

Derek can only tell he's crying when someone starts wiping the tears on his cheeks with their thumbs, and he only recognizes the person as being Laura because of her soft whispers saying _Derek_ and_ it's okay_ and _everything will be alright_.

Derek doesn't believe her.

Because he knows that as soon as thing start looking up again, he'll do something to screw them up.

Just like Kate always said he would.

* * *

Derek stays in bed for two days.

He doesn't speak.

Not really.

You know, with the exception of telling Laura to leave him the fuck alone the third time she tries to get him to tell her his side of the story.

Because telling her about it means telling her what a fucking disappointment he is, and he doesn't think he's ready for the way she'll look at him when she realizes this is all his fault.

Or the way she'll probably try to go after Stiles once she finds out he's friends with an Argent.

He doesn't want to create any problems for him, not more than he already has.

Laura snaps her mouth shut and glares at him, but Derek can see the underlying layer of worry in place of anger as she stares at him.

He doesn't like it, but it's better than having her look down on him for being a fuck up of a human being.

Cora is sitting on a chair directly in front of Derek's bed, and as she sees him snapping at their sister she just narrows her eyes at him and says, "Then we'll just have to ask Stiles."

Derek's entire face pales at that, because it's the exact opposite of what he wants.

He doesn't know he's shaking until Isaac grabs a hold of his wrists and tries to get him to stop, not that it helps much.

He only _does_ stop after Laura and Cora stare at him with fear in their eyes and swear they won't say anything to Stiles, won't try to find him and confront him and ask him about what happened.

No one asks him anything more after that.

And Laura and Cora don't complain when Isaac asks them to leave the loft on the second day, to let them be alone for a little while.

Derek goes back to lying on his side on the bed, hands tucked under his pillow, as he tries to calm down and swallow back down the panic of having anyone he knows_ talking_ to Stiles, seeing him, knowing how embarrassed and angry he must be at Derek for doing what he did, finding out about his connection to Kate.

Isaac sits down beside him, back resting against the headboard, hands clasped together over his lap.

Derek finds himself relaxing a little bit, because he knows that if there's anyone who'll understand what he's going through, that someone is Isaac.

His dad liked packing punches, but running his mouth at Isaac was his favorite way to terrorize his kid.

Derek is glad he's dead.

They sit in silence for a while, Derek's breathing and heartbeat slowing down to normal, and it's not long before he's uncurling himself and turning belly up on the bed, limbs sprawled over the mattress, eyes trained to the ceiling.

"Was it something he did?"

Even though Isaac sounds quiet and calm, Derek knows he's bracing himself for the worst.

Bracing himself for hearing about how Stiles is exactly like Kate, how they met him and had dinner with him and let themselves like him only to get stabbed in the back when they least expected it.

And Derek doesn't want that.

He doesn't want his friends thinking Stiles did something wrong, doesn't want them to blame him for Derek's mistakes.

And he doesn't want them to assume that just because one of Stiles' best friends is related to her, they're all exactly the same kind of people.

So he shakes his head minutely and says, "No, it wasn't anything he did," voice coming out hoarse from disuse.

He can't see Isaac's nod, but he feels the tension slipping out of his friend's body at knowing he doesn't have to hunt anyone down and make good on his threat that if they ever hurt Derek, Isaac would hurt them.

Derek doesn't know whether he should appreciate having friends who care about him as much as Isaac does, or feel a little mad at having them treat Derek like he can't handle things himself.

Which he kind of can't, considering where he is now and how he made a mess out of everything.

But still.

He likes to think he's a capable human being most of the time, and having his friend coddle him doesn't help.

Isaac doesn't say anything more, and Derek finds himself grateful for the silence, for having someone by his side that gets what is like, what he's feeling.

It kind of helps him push down the guilt, the embarrassment, the disgust at himself for failing once again, for not being good enough.

It helps him open his mouth and say, "One of Stiles' best friend is called Allison Argent."

Whatever resemblance of calm Isaac got from Derek saying Stiles didn't do anything vanishes, and Derek has to close his eyes to keep himself from seeing the anger on Isaac's face when he feels him sliding down on the bed and lying next to him.

"But he knew about-"

Derek shakes his head again, letting out a shaky breath when he whispers, "I never told him her name."

He knows he doesn't need to look at Isaac for his friend to know how fucking guilty he's feeling.

It shows in his voice.

It's Isaac's turn to sigh, and Derek can imagine by the sound of fabric shuffling that Isaac is scrubbing a hand over his face.

"You think this is your fault," Isaac says with an edge to his voice that gets Derek throwing an arm over his face.

See?

Isaac knows.

He swallowing hard and finally admits it out loud, "I _know_ it's my fault. If I had told him about her, none of this would have happened."

"What do you think happened?" Isaac asks him, and Derek clenches his hands into fists as he shakes his head and presses his lips together.

And refuses to tell him what he did.

Or to acknowledge that Stiles probably knows Kate and could even be her friend, could even like her, could have decided she is a good person because he's known her longer than he's known Derek, trusts her word more than his.

In the end, he doesn't actually need to open his mouth and tell Isaac about it, because if there's one person in the world who can tell exactly what Derek is thinking, that person is him.

He doesn't know whether to feel comforted by that, or really fucking sad they have this in common.

Isaac proves him right when he opens his mouth and says, voice low and calm and _firm_, like Derek is going to understand what he's saying_ or else_.

"Whatever you think happened? It's not on you because you didn't tell Stiles who she was," Isaac starts. "You didn't make a fool of him in front of his closest friends, and you didn't embarrass him by reacting the way you did after finding out one of Stiles' friends is an Argent. I doubt Stiles thinks anything less of you because of your behavior, especially considering what he knows about what she did to you. If anything, he must be worried sick about you, not angry or embarrassed or whatever it is you think he's feeling right now."

Derek's breath hitches, and he's not proud of himself when he feels tears sting in his eyes.

He wants to tell Isaac he's wrong, that everything _is_ on him, because everything that happens wrong is always his fault.

And he also wants to believe him.

With everything he has, he wants what Isaac said to be true.

"And if he knows," Isaac stops, takes a deep breath, starts up again. "And if he knows her, than I doubt his impression of her is still the same after having met you. I doubt he still thinks she's a nice person, if he ever met her or thought so before, after knowing about what happened. You won't know anything about where he stands when it comes to her unless you speak to him."

Derek shakes his head again, the words _I can't see him_ and _I doubt he wants anything to do with me_ and_ what if he doesn't believe me_ lodged in his throat.

"Cora told me Stiles was saying something when they came to pick you up," Isaac says softly, obviously seeing Derek's struggle. "Do you remember what it was?"

Derek's entire body tenses, because no, he doesn't remember Stiles saying anything to him that night.

All he remembers is the heavy weight of guilt and shame on his shoulders, how it felt like someone was ripping his chest open and twisting his insides, and Stiles voice telling him that _you never even told me her name_.

"He didn't say anything," Derek croaks out, heart constricting painfully in his chest.

"He did," Isaac tells him, knocking their elbows together. "Cora told me he kept saying it wasn't your fault, and that you didn't do anything wrong."

Derek shakes his head, "He didn't."

"He did," Isaac says softly. "And he's right. It wasn't your fault, and you didn't do anything wrong. You had a perfectly normal reaction to a bad situation, and no one would ever blame you for what you did. Least of all Stiles. "

Derek doesn't say anything, torn between wanting to believe every word Isaac is saying and being angry at himself for daring to hope him right.

But he knows better.

He knows better than to let himself think he can have this.

He already knew better before he started anything with Stiles, but he went right ahead and let himself think things would be okay this time, and look where that got him.

"You know what else he said?" Isaac prompts him, voice calm and low. "After Cora and you left?"

Derek wants to tell him that _no_, he obviously doesn't.

And he also wants to tell him that he doesn't care.

That whatever Stiles might have said won't change anything, won't make him feel better, even if he knows it's not true.

"He told Laura his friend never told him she had any family," Isaac says, and Derek swears his heart stops in his chest. "I know you're worried about seeing her again, but for what Stiles told her, he had no idea she even existed."

Derek entire body is still, heart pounding in his chest, the rush of blood in his ears the only thing he can hear as Isaac's words turn in his head.

Because it can't be true, can it?

He would have known, he would have listened if Stiles told him that, if he tried to tell him that.

Derek tries to bring back the memory of that night, not that it's hard.

Not like he hasn't been going over everything that's happened in his head since he got here two days ago.

He knows he doesn't really remember anything after Stiles told him Derek had never mentioned who Kate was to him, the panic all consuming as the guilt came crashing down on him for having failed once again.

He tries to think before that, tries to remember if Stiles said anything, _what_ he said, if he ever told him that-

_I didn't know, Derek. Allison never mentioned her. I had no idea, Derek. I promise. I didn't know. You never even told me her name._

Derek must make a sound like he's in pain, because next thing he knows he has Isaac's hands on him, pulling him up in a sitting position, hands on Derek's shoulders, so he can make sure he's okay.

"I walked out on him without saying anything while his friends just stood there," Derek tells him in a rush of breath, trying to make Isaac understand how fucking _awful_ this is. "I panicked, and I ran, and I didn't stop when he kept calling my name. I ignored him, and when he finally caught up to me, he- I didn't listen. I _didn't listen_."

Isaac doesn't say anything for a few moments, knowing Derek needs some time in silence to get his head around everything.

How he did exactly what Stiles asked him not to do, and that was to push him away and run out and not let him _in_.

"I'm not going to tell you that walking away was the best thing you could have done," Isaac says, choosing his words carefully. "You could have handled a lot of things differently, yes, but knowing the reason you did what you did, no one can blame you for your actions. No one can blame you for not wanting to stay."

Of course Derek could have handled things differently.

He could have told Stiles who she was _before_ all of this happened.

Or he could have stayed and fucking _listened_ to his boyfriend when he tried to tell him that _he didn't know Kate_, because he didn't even know she _existed_.

Or he could have walked away before he ever let himself feel something for him.

So yes, Isaac, he could have handled a lot of things differently.

But it's all for nothing now, thinking and wondering about what he could have done or said another way, because the mess has been made.

Derek has fucked up, and all he can do is accept he once again fucked things up and deal with it.

Or try to fix them, if they can _still_ be fixed.

But it's not time for him to think about that now, as he lies back down on the bed, Isaac not saying anything else to him, knowing the guilt and disgust and self-loathing cut too deep.

That his mind is still not in a place where he can think about all of this rationally, not when it's all still too fresh in his mind.

They both lie there quietly, and when Derek's lids start to drop, he doesn't fight sleep, hoping his dreams will give him something better than what his life has right now.

* * *

Derek wakes up the next morning to the sounds of people in the kitchen, the clatter of pans and low murmur of voices, and for a second he forgets about the last couple of days.

Only to be reminded of it when he stretches and finds the other side of the bed empty and cold.

Not that Stiles ever stayed the night in Derek's loft, but Derek had started to get used to waking up with someone wrapped up in him the few nights a week he spent over at Stiles.

He swallows around a lump in his throat as he wonders whether or not he should get up or just stay in bed all day, just like he did the day before and the day before_ that_. His stomach ends up deciding for him, when it grumbles loudly in hunger.

Derek's a little bit surprised when he steps into the kitchen to find Isaac leaning against the fridge, a mug in his hand, with Erica sitting on a chair by his side holding a glass of apple juice, and Boyd on the stove, flipping pancakes.

He should have expected this, should have known Isaac would call them for reinforcements as soon as he could, should have known they'd be here to keep him from staying in bed and doing nothing for the foreseeable future.

You know, nothing but think about all the ways he screwed up his relationship with Stiles and if he has a remote chance to make things better.

He's also grateful his sisters aren't here, if he's being honest with himself, because as much as he loves them he can't help but feel even more like a screw up whenever they are around.

Boyd barely spares him a glance and a tilt of his chin in acknowledgement before he goes back to the task at hand, the scar at the side of his head from surgery visible as he moves.

Isaac just gives him a raised eyebrow, as if daring him to say anything or ask Erica and Boyd to leave.

Derek doesn't dare.

He's actually fighting against the sudden rush of affection and urge to break down and cry at having these people as his friends.

That is until Erica gets up from the chair, walks up to him, and pulls him into a hug, her face smashed against his chest.

Only to pull back and say, "You smell," as she wrinkles her nose.

Derek blinks down at her, face blank, because him smelling bad is the least of his worries right now.

Anything that's not relieving what happened Saturday and feeling like a complete and utter disappointment doesn't really bother him much.

In fact, he can say with absolute certainty that having to take a shower or brush his teeth didn't even cross his mind since Cora got him home three days ago.

Maybe _that_ should worry him.

"You should take a shower before breakfast," Isaac suggests, taking a sip from his coffee.

Derek opens his mouth to say there's no point in showering because it's not like he has anywhere to go.

Like, let's say, back to Stiles' apartment.

At least not right now.

But at the unimpressed look Boyd gives him as he says, "I'm not giving you any pancakes when I can _smell_ you from here," makes his snap his mouth shut and sigh.

He doesn't say anything to them as he turns on his back and heads for the bathroom, ignoring Erica when she calls out after him to, "Don't forget to brush your teeth!"

Derek lets his mind travel back to Saturday night as he turns on the water and takes off his clothes, hissing through his teeth when he steps into the shower and directly under the water spray, the water so hot it makes his skin turn red.

It's a good reprieve from the emotional pain, at least, to turn his focus to the ache he feels on his chest and stomach and not the one that stabs him in the heart every time he thinks of Stiles.

And all the guilt and shame that come with it.

The self-loathing.

The anger at not having _listened_.

He doesn't take long in the shower, his stomach demanding to be fed, and he takes one look at his simple blue toothbrush before remembering the Batman one he keeps at Stiles' apartment and deciding to not do what Erica said.

Derek makes sure his towel is wrapped securely around his waist before stepping out of the bathroom and walking towards where he keeps his clothes, making sure Erica is not lurking anywhere with her cell phone in hand and ready to catch him off guard so she can take a picture of him naked.

It's been known to happen.

When he starts walking back to the kitchen, it's to find everyone in the living room instead, with breakfast set on his big wooden table and a free chair for him to sit on.

"C'mon," Erica pats the back of the empty chair as she grins at him. "Come sit next to me and tell me how much you love my boyfriend's pancakes."

Isaac rolls his eyes at her, while Derek just takes a deep breath and does as he's told.

Because even though they might be acting like nothing's wrong, even though they're not asking any questions, he knows that won't last.

Isaac certainly told Erica and Boyd about their conversation yesterday, so it's just a matter of time before he has to talk to them about it.

He knows it won't take long before they decide that playing-nice-time is over and start getting him to tell them himself.

Resistance is futile.

Especially when they're all as close to each other as they are.

As close to each other in a way that differs from Derek's relationship with his sisters, which is kind of the reason why they're not here, why they're keeping their distance.

Because the pressure he feels whenever he's with his family is different from what he feels whenever he's with his friends.

If Laura and Cora are around, he can't help but feel like he has to live up to their expectations of him and be _better_. And, at times like these, when he_ can't_, when he does something and it blows up back in his face, it feels like he's failed them, like they're disappointed in him.

But with Erica, Isaac, and Boyd?

There's no pressure.

There's only the knowledge that they've had some awful things happen to them too, and that they get him.

They've seen him in his best and in his worst, and it doesn't matter because they've also _been_ through worse.

Isaac with his father's abuse and Boyd with the guilt of his little sister's death and Erica with parents who couldn't care less if she was alive or dead.

Not that Laura and Cora haven't had anything bad happen to them during their lives - say, their entire family burning to death and their father dying in a car crash -, but they haven't experience the kind of guilt that consumes them, haven't doubted themselves and if they were good enough or worthy enough to have people's affections.

Just like the three people sitting in front of him have.

Erica serves him a plate while Boyd hands him the syrup, the living room filled with the sounds of them eating breakfast.

Derek has to admit Erica is right, he does love Boyd's pancakes.

Actually, scratch that.

He loves everything and anything Boyd cooks, because he can always count on his food to taste amazing.

He knows his mother agrees, which is the reason why she hired Boyd to cook for the bar.

And it's not a surprise, really, considering Derek met him after he let his dad rope him into taking some cooking lessons when they were in New York and Boyd was one of his classmates.

And the best student in class.

His friends make idle conversation as they eat, not treating Derek's silence like it's anything out of the ordinary - which kind of isn't, but still -, and Derek finds himself relaxing a little in their presence.

Even though he knows they're luring him into a false sense of security before attacking him with questions and demanding to know what happened, not that Isaac hasn't told them already.

And, well, not really demanding, but strongly suggesting he tells them about it if he doesn't want to suffer through Isaac retelling him about his and Cora's sexcapades, or Erica forcing him to marathon Sex and the City, or Boyd just staring blankly at him until he breaks.

His friends, really.

But part of him knows this is a good thing, that they push him to tell them things and not let him stew in his own thoughts and misery for too long, even if he doesn't like it.

It's because of them things didn't end as badly as they could have for him when his relationship with Kate came to an end, and it's no wonder they're the ones to help him now, with this, to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.

That's still not enough to make him offer to wash the dishes after they're done eating, though.

Since Boyd cooked, Erica and Isaac are the ones who take care of the dirty dishes, going back to the kitchen just as Derek gets up and goes back to his bed.

The idea of staying in it all day sounding more and more appealing the closer he gets to the bed, especially as he sees Boyd following after him.

He knew this was coming, but he just thought they'd at least wait a couple more hours before bringing up the subject.

You know, giving him time to mentally prepare himself for the conversation.

He should have known better.

"I have to go back to the bar soon," Boyd says, and Derek guesses that explains it. "Talia wants me to make sure the kitchen is set before we open."

Derek forces himself to nod as he climbs into bed, mind going to his and Stiles' first fight after Derek took him for a walk in the woods, to see the old house. The way Stiles' face fell when his mother mentioned hoping he would be at the opening with Derek and Derek hesitated, only to end up saying maybe Stiles shouldn't go.

Not because Derek didn't want him there, but because he was afraid of what it would mean to them. He was afraid of introducing Stiles to everyone, officially, as his boyfriend. He was afraid of how that would mean that if he ended up doing something to mess their relationship up, he wouldn't be the only one affected. How his friends would have once again welcomed someone into their fold only to have them being pushed away by Derek's incapability of doing anything right.

The mention of his mother also makes Derek's stomach churn, because he knows he'll have to talk to her about all of this, too.

Eventually.

Possibly sometime in the really distant future, if Derek has his way.

"She finally has a date set?" Derek finds himself asking, hoping that if he sounds interested enough, Boyd will take the bait and not talk to him about Saturday or Stiles.

And he's kind of curious, if he does say so himself, because for all intents and purposes the bar could have been open and running for a couple of months now.

The only reason it probably isn't is because of his mom's tendency to check and double check and triple check everything to make sure it's just as it's supposed to be.

And by supposed to be he means just the way she likes them.

Boyd nods, "Halloween."

Derek's lips thin, imagining how much Stiles would have liked that, the opportunity to dress up and convince Derek to go right along with him.

But it doesn't really matter now, does it?

Not now that he's potentially managed to ruin everything.

Because that's what Derek does.

He tries to be good, and he tries to do things right, but somehow he always ends up in a situation where whatever decision he makes ends up being a bad one.

He hears Boyd sigh, and that's Derek's cue to turn on his side and hope that he looks pathetic enough to make Boyd doubt making Derek talk about what happened and what he's thinking is a good idea.

As expected, he doesn't succeed.

"Isaac told us he talked to you last night," Boyd starts. "So I'm not going to sit here and pretend I don't know the kind of shit that's going through your head and wait for you to open your mouth and talk to _me_ about it."

Derek blinks at him, a little startled.

Because Boyd almost sounds _angry_ as he speaks, arms crossed over his chest as he levels Derek with a look that makes him want to start apologizing for making him feel whatever it is he's feeling.

He even goes as far as opening his mouth to say something, to tell him he didn't mean to make him angry, that he's sorry, that it wasn't his intention.

Only to have Boyd raise a hand at him and stop him in his tracks, eyes glinting as he stares at Derek straight in the eye.

"Mostly because I know you don't want you say anything," Boyd raises an eyebrow at him. "And also because I don't want to hear about it."

Derek clenches his jaw as dreads sets in his bones, as he thinks that not even his friends, not even Boyd, can deal with him anymore.

That he's fucked up so much not even them want to be anywhere near him.

"I'm not going to sit here and listen to you say you fucked things up, that it's all your fault, because if you would have done something this way or that way things would have worked out differently," Boyd says, eyes never leaving Derek's. "Because that's_ bullshit_, Derek. I'm sure Isaac told you already, but I'm going to say it again. It's _not your fault_. You didn't do _anything_ wrong. And what happened is not on anyone, least of all _you_. You can't blame yourself for what happened, and you can't blame yourself for not wanting to hang around after it did."

Derek's breath hitches, eyes stinging as he tries to make sense of Boyd's words, tries to figure out how he could even think that when it's so fucking obvious Derek is to blame.

"Do you understand?" Boyd asks him, voice low and calm and hitting Derek straight in the gut.

Because he doesn't understand.

Not really.

He can't even begin to imagine why Boyd is saying this to him when it's obviously a lie.

Unless.

"It's not your fault," Boyd says again, with as much conviction as before. "I don't know what's going through your head, but _no one_ blames you for reacting the way you did. Not me, not Isaac and Erica, not your sisters, not Stiles. _No one_."

Derek shakes his head, mouth dry as he says, "You don't know that."

_How_ could he know that?

How could he say Derek is not the one to blame for this?

And that no one thinks he did something to fuck things up?

That _Stiles_ doesn't think that?

"I do know that," Boyd gives him a long look. "I know that because that's how I feel. And I know that because Erica and Isaac told me the same thing, and they'll probably tell you themselves all about it later. And I know that Laura and Cora love you and would never blame you for anything, no matter how much you think you deserve it. And I know that because both of them also told me about what Stiles said when they came to pick you up at his friend's house, and I doubt time made him change his mind or think you did something to fuck things up between you two. Even though you leaving before he could explain things to you wasn't the best thing you could have done, I doubt he's mad at you for it."

It keeps coming back to that.

It's the second time someone's mentioned Stiles saying how Derek had nothing to feel guilty about, how he did nothing wrong, how the blame for what happened wasn't on him.

And Derek doesn't know if he should believe what his friends are saying because he doesn't _remember_ Stiles saying those things.

He doesn't really remember anything past his lips forming the words _you never even told me her name_, so even if he did say that, even if he did think Derek did something to screw things up, he can't be sure.

Unless he talks to Stiles.

Which is something he equal parts wants to do and dreads with every fiber of his being.

Because if they're lying to him, if this is just their way of trying to make Derek feel better, then Derek doesn't know what he'll do, doesn't know if he'll be able to deal with Stiles rejecting him.

And if what they're saying is true and Stiles doesn't believe Derek is to blame for what happened?

He still must not be very happy about Derek _running away_ and not staying so they could talk about things.

About Derek once again pushing him away instead of letting him in, instead of giving him the benefit of the doubt, instead of letting him show him that he's there and he's listening.

And it's time for Derek to feel ashamed of himself once again, because if there is a chance of them working through this, of being together again, he might have fucked it all up anyway.

Seeing Stiles and talking to him again might be for nothing if Stiles is tired of having Derek walk away from him every time life gets rough or he's caught off guard by something.

Boyd is still staring at him, eyes intent on Derek's face while Derek tries to come to terms with the realization that maybe he _didn't_ really do anything wrong, with the exception of walking away from Stiles and not listening to what he had to say.

He's still wary, though.

Still afraid of letting himself believe this is not on him, only to be proven wrong later.

But hope is there, even if it's just a sliver of it, that maybe this time things are different.

He's always known Stiles wasn't like Kate, but what he hadn't realized until now is that he's also not the same Derek he was when he was with her.

He's different when he's with Stiles, because their relationship is different than what his was with her.

He's been acting like he used to when he was with Kate, has been fitting himself into that same pattern he did when they were together, reliving what happened to him when they were dating, only with Stiles.

When he shouldn't have.

When he really really really shouldn't fucking have.

Because it's not the _same_.

They're not the same, the situation is not the same, _nothing_ is the same.

Right?

Whatever expression that shows on his face must be enough for Boyd, because he just nods at him before giving him a small smile.

Derek is too busy feeling confused and reevaluating his entire life, his actions, and his relationship with Stiles to notice Erica and Isaac coming back, only snapping out of his thoughts when Erica throws herself on top of his bed and ends up elbowing him in the stomach.

Derek tries to glare, still feeling too out of sorts to manage looking angry at her.

Not that it'd work either way, since she's long ago stopped feeling intimidated by Derek, but still.

Erica just grins at him, fluffing his pillows before making herself comfortable by his side, taking one of Derek's hands in hers so she can play with his fingers.

Isaac drags one of the chairs near the table next to Boyd, Derek thinking to himself he really should invest in more comfortable furniture.

Or just more furniture, in general.

His heart constricts in his chest as he stares at all of them, in his loft, by his side, just like they always have been, through better and worse.

Not only all three of them knew everything there was to know about Derek, they also had met first hand the skeletons in Derek's closet.

All of his insecurities and issues and the bad things that happened to him.

Everything he keeps hidden so he seems... safe, normal, _happy_.

All of the things people don't know about him, because if they did, Derek is certain they wouldn't want anything to do with him.

Or at least he _was_ certain.

After his talk with Boyd and Isaac, he doesn't really know anymore.

And the thing about his friends is that not only they know about every bad thing that happened to him, they also _accept them_.

They accept them and, in turn, Derek makes room in his closet for _their_ skeletons.

For all the things that _they_ struggle with.

Sometimes he wonders if that's the reason why they're such good friends, why they're _family_ to one another, why they didn't even hesitate to pack their things and move to Beacon Hills when Derek told them he was leaving New York.

Because they're all just as broken as the next one, all just as damaged, all living with their own demons.

The heaviness of his thoughts must show on his face, because he simultaneously gets Isaac nudging one of his socked feet with his own and Erica poking him in the ribs with a finger.

"Stop with the face," Erica tells him.

Derek blinks at her, "What face?"

"Your _I'm thinking thoughts and hurting_ face."

"I don't have a face," Derek mumbles.

"You kind of do," Boyd nods in agreement.

"Your mouth thins and your eyebrows come together like a huge black caterpillar," Isaac says. "It's almost the same as your _I'm going to rip your throat out with my teeth_ face, only without the crazy eyes."

"The crazy eyes," Derek says flatly, and then backtracks. "Huge black caterpillar."

He should feel offended, right?

He should feel offended and angry and not incredibly amused and like he lucked out to have these three as his friends.

"You should let me pluck your eyebrows," Erica tells him, moving so she's kneeling on the bed and looming over Derek, grabbing his face between her hands and running her thumbs over his brows.

Derek looks helplessly over at Boyd, who just leans back against his chair, eyes glinting and mouth forming a faint smirk.

"I'm not letting you anywhere near my face with tweezers," Derek tells her, wrapping his fingers around her wrists and breaking her hold on him.

"But," Erica tries to protest, flopping down on the mattress again.

"No," Derek says firmly. "We all remember what happened to Isaac."

"I thought we agreed on _never talking about that again_," Isaac hisses, neck flushing when Boyd outright snorts and covers his mouth with a hand so keep himself from laughing.

Derek can't help the way his lips curl up in a smirk at seeing Isaac like that, trying to look mad at them while he presses his lips together to keep himself from smiling.

He knows better than anyone how hard it is to let people laugh about something that happened to him or he did, and how Isaac struggles with the same thing.

Because when you spend years with the people who are supposed to love you and protect you _laughing at you_, it kind of makes it hard for you to accept or even understand that laughter is not always a means to hurt you, to make you feel like you're a lesser person.

Letting go of that doubt that every time someone laughed close him wasn't because they were laughing _at him_ was something Derek learned with their help, by becoming their friends, by letting them get close to him and get to know him and, in turn, him getting to know them.

And it was also something he learned with Stiles.

Every time he laughed when he was around Derek, the way his eyes turned bright and looked at him with nothing but warmth and genuine happiness as his shoulders shook and he tried to catch his breath.

Like just being around Derek was exactly where he wanted to be.

Derek wonders if that's still true.

If what Boyd said applies and if Stiles doesn't blame him for anything.

Maybe only with the exception of leaving him without a chance for them to talk about what happened.

He also wonders if he can fix that, if he even wants to - he wants to -, if Stiles would let him.

"You kind of looked cute, though," Erica muses out loud, lips stretching in a grin. "Like a bald puppy."

"No," Isaac shakes his head furiously, glaring at her.

Or trying to.

The way the flush raises up from his neck to the edge of his jaw and cheeks kind of ruins it.

"I think he looked better when the hair started growing back," Boyd offers, and his flat voice kind of makes him sound like he means it.

"_No_."

"I don't remember him looking good," Derek remarks, trying to keep his face blank when Isaac turned to him. "But I remember him rubbing his face against one of Peter's wool sweaters because _his face was itchy_."

Isaac opens his mouth only to snap it shut again, abruptly getting up from the chair and making his way towards the kitchen.

Derek would be worried if it wasn't for the fact he can see Isaac's shoulders shaking from holding in the laugh that wants to burst out of him.

Boyd just shakes his heads and gets up to go after him, probably more to leave Erica alone with him than to actually make sure Isaac is okay.

Because he is.

As they can tell by the way they can hear him laughing as soon as he disappears into the kitchen.

And as soon as Boyd disappears after him, Erica immediately props herself on one elbow so she can look down at him.

"Subtle," Derek tells her, starting to feel nervous now that he's not surrounded by the three of them anymore.

Because all it takes for the self-doubt and guilt to start making themselves known again is for him to not have other things, or people, demanding his attention.

That's how his life was like right after him and Kate broke up, if he can call that a break up.

His friends and family hardly let him have any time alone, hanging out at his apartment watching movies and ordering take out and roping Derek into endless games of Monopoly.

Sometimes, when he's feeling particularly playful and happy with the world - which doesn't really happen that often, but still -, he likes to say the worst thing about what happened then wasn't really what he went through with Kate, but having to sit down in his living room and watch his mother throw fake money bills at Boyd's face while Erica tried to flirt her way into convincing Uncle Peter to sell her one of his properties.

Needless to say, they're forbidden to play board game with each other ever again.

"Do you want me to call them back so they can hear our conversation?" Erica raises an eyebrow at him. "Because I'd be happy to."

Derek presses his lips together and lowers his eyes, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt as he waits for Erica to say what she wants to say.

He's still feeling as confused as ever about his talk with Boyd, and he's pretty sure that whatever Erica tries to tell him won't really help him make sense of it all.

Because the idea of Stiles, or anyone, really, not blaming him for what happened is as foreign to him as the idea of Erica with short hair.

"I don't know what Boyd told you," Erica says, voice low as she looks down at him. "So I can't really say I agree with everything he said to you, even though, let's face it, I probably do."

Derek can't help but snort at that.

"Hey," Erica smacks him in the chest with a hand. "I'm agreeable. I can agree with things."

"As long as they're exactly how you want them, you mean," Derek mumbles, not even trying to roll over when Erica smacks him again.

"_As I was saying_," Erica narrows her eyes at him, but smoothes her expression back up. "I don't know what he told you, but I know that whatever it is that was going on in that pretty little head of yours, last night with Isaac and today after you woke up, that makes you look like you think you're the worst human being in the entire planet? _Not true_."

Derek lifts his head up only to blink at her, brows coming together in confusion as he swallows and tries to understand _why_ she thinks that.

And not just her, but why Isaac thinks and why Boyd thinks that and why they say _Stiles_ thinks that, too.

And why his sisters and mother and uncle probably agree.

Because as much as Derek _knows_ that the way Kate treated him wasn't right, he doesn't _understand_ why she would have done it if at least part of it wasn't true.

If he didn't do something to deserve it.

So to have these people tell him otherwise?

It rattles him.

It makes him doubt himself again, but not in the way he's used to.

Not because he's thinking he did something wrong or because he's wrong, but making him think about how maybe he _didn't_ deserve what happened to him, maybe _didn't_ deserve to be treated the way he was by her.

"You're a wonderful person, Derek," Erica says, smiling softly at him. "And I'm not just saying that because of your pretty eyes and chiseled jaw and ridiculously hot body. I'm saying that because you're the kindest, most loving, unbelievably sweet guy I've ever met."

"I'm-," Derek starts shaking his head.

"Let me finish," Erica says, voice cracking as her eyes water before she takes a deep breath and looks at him straight in the eye. "You gave me a home and a family and a place in your heart, and you helped me realize that I didn't need my parent's support or love to be happy. I just need to love _myself_, and surround myself with people who loved me just as much and exactly as I am. You have no idea how much that meant to me. _No idea_."

"Erica," Derek says, voice rough as he tries to speak past the lump forming in his throat.

Because he hasn't seen this Erica in a really long time.

This teary-eyed little girl who looks so fucking scared and lost and like she could break at any moment.

"And that's why I'll always be here to tell you that there's absolutely nothing wrong with you," Erica says steadily, going as far as pointing a finger at him and everything. "You're not a failure, and you're not a bad person, and you don't deserve bad things happening to you. What that woman said or did to you that made you believe that? That you're not worth it? It was all _lies_, Derek. It was all _wrong_ and it was fucked up, and you _never ever_ deserved to be treated that way. Not by her, and not by anyone."

Derek's eyes burn as he tries to grasp the meaning of Erica's words, as he tries to understand why the people he loves more than life itself keep telling him that, when he doesn't see things that way.

And the doubt comes creeping back in, because maybe they're right.

Maybe they're right and Derek's wrong. There's really nothing new about him being mistaken, if he thinks about it, so it wouldn't exactly be a surprise.

Maybe they're right and what they keep telling him, keep making him try and understand, is all true.

Maybe he _isn't_ the one to blame.

Maybe he _isn't_ a failure and a disappointment and a burden in people's lives.

Maybe he _didn't_ do anything wrong and there's nothing for him to be feeling guilty about.

And maybe_ Kate_ was the one who was fucked up, not him, and he _didn't_ deserve what happened to him.

Maybe his only mistake was not giving Stiles the time he needed to explain things to him, but walking away doesn't necessarily mean he did anything _wrong_.

Derek takes a shallow breath as he looks at Erica through his tears, mouth parted as he shakes his head and tries to say something over as the crushing feeling of realization starts to set in.

"You're starting to get it, aren't you?" Erica says softly, giving him a wobbly smile as she looks down at him.

Derek opens and closes his mouth a few times before he gives her a shaky nod, swallowing around the lump on his throat as he says, "I didn't deserve it, did I? I didn't deserve anything she did to me. I didn't do- I didn't do anything wrong."

There's a best of silence as Erica looks down at him and gives him one of her brightest smiles as her eyes fill with tears and she shakes her head, "You didn't."

The air rushes out of Derek's lungs as he hears it, as he finally starts to understand.

But before he can say anything else he finds himself under a pile of bodies, with Erica's head pressed against his chest and Isaac's curly hair in his mouth and Boyd strong arms around his shoulders.

All of them saying _finally_ and _you didn't_ and _it was never your fault_ and_ I love you_.

And yeah, Derek is finally starting to get it.

* * *

"We come bearing gifts," Laura says as she enters the loft, Cora at her heels.

"You mean I come bearing gifts," Cora glares at her over the top of three large pizza boxes.

"Don't be a brat," Laura points a finger at her before flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I'm the one who placed the order. And _payed_."

Derek shakes his head at his sisters, lips twitching up in a smile as he curls his hands into fists to keep himself from showing how nervous he is.

Isaac gets up to help Cora with the food, placing a kiss on her forehead and smiling softly when she kisses him back on the nose, while Laura walks past them and flops down on a chair beside Derek.

Who doesn't need to look at her to know she has her eyes trained on him, probably staring at him with a look that's a mixture between being worried about him and kind of angry that he had his friends keep her away from him for two days.

Derek knows better than to try and explain to her why that was, knowing it'll hurt her if she finds out about the way she and Cora sometimes make him feel when they're around and he's having a bad day.

He hopes she forgets all about that when he tells her about the conversation he had with Isaac, Erica, and Boyd, and how he's starting to understand and believe in what they've been trying to convince him of since he broke up with Kate.

That he doesn't deserve every bad thing that's happened to him, and that it's not all punishment for him being a bad person, and that none of it it's his fault.

Mostly.

He didn't magically let all of the guilt go, but he figures he's taking a step in the right direction by recognizing it's not his job to carry it around.

"I'll go get drinks," Erica pipes up from her place sitting on Boyd's lap, taking his hand in hers and tugging him forward. "Why don't you come help me?"

"I'll go help Erica get drinks," Boyd says flatly, both of them getting up and heading for the kitchen.

Derek can't really help the way he rolls his eyes.

Subtlety is apparently something that doesn't exist here.

Which he should have known, when Isaac asked him if it was okay for him to invite Laura and Cora over for dinner.

Nevermind that Cora actually _lives_ in the loft.

Not that she has been there the last couple of days, when Isaac politely asked her and Laura to get the fuck out.

Only for Boyd and Erica to take their places yesterday, Erica announcing they'd be having a sleepover right after they calmed down from piling up on top of Derek on the bed after him admitting that his friends were right and there was nothing wrong with him.

Which is something he kind of still can't get his head around, if he's being honest.

He figures it'll take some time for him to let himself believe that, for that change in how he thinks about and sees himself to start, for him to come around and understand that all those things Kate said to him weren't true.

And he figures that the first step into making that change is to let his family know about it.

You know, considering how invested they've always been in Derek's well-being and happiness.

"I'll get napkins," Isaac says brightly, pecking Cora on the lips before placing the boxes on the table and following in after them, throwing his arms around Erica and Boyd's shoulders as they walk towards the kitchen.

Cora sits down on the chair Boyd vacated, legs stretched out in front of her and feet crossed at the ankles.

Derek sits there and lets his sisters look at him, letting them take him in and after two days of not seeing him and notice that he's showered, shaved, and wearing clean clothes.

Which they know it's something he didn't really care about after Kate, thinking that the filthy on the outside was just a way for him to make people see how he was feeling _inside_.

But things are different.

Derek can sort of maybe possibly finally see that.

They still don't ask him if he's okay, something Derek thinks happens mostly because they're not really sure if they want to know the answer, not this soon after seeing him break.

So he lifts his head up, looks from one to the other, and gives them a little push, "Ask me if I'm okay."

Cora blinks at him in confusion, "You want us to ask you if you're okay."

Derek nods, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly through his nose as he says, "Yes."

He knows that's unusual for him, knows that in the past whenever one of them tried to ask him how he was feeling, he barked out a harsh _fine_ and snapped at them.

Today is different.

He needs them to ask, so he can force himself to get the words he needs to say out.

"Derek," Laura says, placing a hand on his shoulder and making Derek turns his attention to her, her voice soft, gaze understanding if not still a little bit confused. "Are you okay?"

Derek opens and closes his mouth, his throat suddenly dry, and he licks his lips and takes another deep breath before staring at them in the eyes and saying, "No, but I think I will be."

They both blink at him, bodies so still Derek can't even see a hair on their heads moving.

He knows they get it, he knows they understand that something important just happened by having Derek recognize and admit out loud that he's not _fine_, but that there's a chance he can be.

You know, in the future.

As long as he has their help and support and love and understanding.

And patience.

Because even though Derek is starting to get it, it doesn't mean he won't have days where it feels like he's right back at square one, and it won't mean it won't take a really long time before he feels good about himself again.

In fact, as good as he feels about this right now, he can't ignore that having to talk to them still makes him nervous, like they still have expectations of him that he's not sure he'll be able to measure up to.

But still, talking to them and explaining it all is important.

They are his family, and Derek loves them, and they need to know.

Laura presses her lips together, voice cracking when she starts saying, "What-," only to stop and clear her throat before she keeps going. "What-"

Or trying to, not that she's that successful.

Derek doesn't really blame her.

He knows he's not really acting like himself right now, and maybe that's a good thing.

"What happened?" Derek offers, raising an eyebrow and trying to turn this conversation a tone lighter than it is, then he ever thought it could be.

Both Cora and Laura nod at him, eyes guarded as they wait for an explanation.

Derek doesn't blame them for being wary of this, the sudden change, how for them it must look like all the time they tried to get him to understand that his perception of the world and himself was fucked up - because Kate made it so, not him - didn't do anything.

But after breaking up his first real relationship after Kate and spending a few days with his friends, he's suddenly... well, _changed_.

Not better, but getting there.

Hopefully.

Because, really, this is all so new to him,_ just-yesterday_ new to him, that Derek hopes it won't vanish as soon as things start getting rough.

"I- uhm-," Derek starts, realizing that just because he wants to talk to them about this doesn't mean he's suddenly be successful at getting his sentences out. "I had a talk with Erica. And Boyd. And Isaac."

When Laura and Cora nod at him, he figures they still understand him, though.

That he could still stumble and stutter through whatever it is that he wants to say to them and they'll stay quiet and listen, wait until he gets everything out.

Which is not something that used to happen with Kate.

She was impatient, and she always made it clear how Derek should learn how to speak before occupying her time with muttered nonsense.

And that's another thing he relived, a pattern he got stuck in, because he still didn't understand that those people weren't the same as Kate.

Because of that, Derek can't help but feel like he failed those he loves, by comparing them to the woman they all hate, the woman who hurt them all as deeply as she possibly could.

"And they mentioned- They said that-," Derek licks his lips, nerves showing when his voice starts shaking a little and sounds small as he says. "When you came to pick me up. Stiles- Stiles was saying something?"

Laura blinks at him, tone cautious and slow, "Yes. You don't-"

"I don't really-," Derek shakes his head. "I don't really remember. Most of it is all-"

He makes a vague gesture with his hands, trying to get them to understand how everything was just too much pain and panic and guilt for him to bother trying to pay attention to someone talking to him.

Cora and Laura share a glance, Derek's heartbeat speeding up as he thinks that this is it, this is the moment he finds out they're all lying to him.

That Stiles _does_ blame him and that he _did_ do something wrong that Stiles _knows_ her.

"He was," Cora says, eyes glued to his. "He kept saying-"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Laura asks, fingers spasming against his shoulder a little.

Derek nods.

Because he does.

He really really really fucking does.

He _needs_ to know.

More than anything, he needs to have this, the confirmation that Stiles doesn't blame him, that he never knew who Kate was, that Derek's not at risk when he's with him.

"I don't know what he said to Laura after we left, but," Cora swallows. "He kept saying it wasn't- He kept saying you didn't do anything wrong, that it wasn't your fault, and that it was okay."

Derek closes his eyes, letting the meaning of Cora's words wash over him, feeling his muscles loosen as he lets out a relieved breath.

It's true.

What his friends said, it's all true.

About Stiles not blaming him or being angry or embarrassed by Derek's actions.

There's only one thing he's missing, though.

And then turns to look at Laura, "Did he say anything after? To you?"

"Yes," Laura tells him, eyes bright as she looks at him, like she knows exactly where he's going with this. "He said he didn't know who she was. That he had no idea. Not just because you never said anything, but because his friend never mentioned she had any family."

Derek's chest spasms, body curling as he drops his head between his knees and closes his eyes and tries to calm himself down.

Laura snakes an arm around his shoulders and hug him close to her, just as Cora rests her forehead against the back of Derek's neck and winds her arms around his waist.

His relief grows at hearing that from Laura, at knowing Stiles doesn't know Kate, has never met her, didn't even know she existed.

And at the same time, anger and dread and guilt grow inside of him because he didn't bother listening when Stiles tried to tell him that.

In a way, having the confirmation that Stiles doesn't know Kate because she's never been in the picture, has never even been mentioned by her own family, carries a heavier weight to him than not having Stiles thinking he's useless.

Because this way he knows he can be around him.

He knows he can _be_ with Stiles without worrying about whether or not he'll bump into Kate when they're together.

That is, if Stiles still wants to be with him.

He doesn't know how long they stay like that, only that it's long enough for the pizza to turn cold and Isaac, Erica, and Boyd come out of the kitchen to see what's going on.

Derek moves to lift himself up, Laura and Cora letting go of him but still staying close, still keeping their eyes on him, like he's going to break at any second.

Little do they know Derek is feeling better than he has in a really long time.

Scared shitless about this whole thing, but better.

"We should heat up the pizzas," Derek says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks, and then looking at both of his sisters. "And then I should probably tell you about some things I've- I've come to realize. About- About myself and Kate and what happened."

The looks he gets from them are both astonished and hopeful, and Derek is glad to have his friends there to help him with this.

Because he knows how long they've all been waiting for this, for him to come to terms with and understand that what happened to him was _not okay_.

Not that he thinks that by telling them he'll automatically learn to let go of all the guilt and start thinking he's not scum, but it's a start.

And Laura and Cora both see it exactly like that as Erica, Isaac and Boyd go wash all the plates and glasses and leave them to talk in the living room after they've all had dinner.

Derek is nervous when he starts talking, tearing the napkin he has in his hand in tiny little pieces and placing them on the table, but he can feel himself feeling lighter and more and more relaxed as he tells them about what happened since Isaac asked them to leave, about the conversations he had with his friends, and about his thoughts and confusion and hesitance to believe what that they meant what they said, and about how he slowly came to the realization that they were _right_.

His voice is hoarse when he's done, and even though it feels like the biggest weight has been lift off his shoulders, he feels drained.

Laura looks at him with shiny eyes and the biggest smile Derek's ever seen on her face, radiating pride and love and relief just as great at Derek's.

Cora is the one who surprises him, though.

By bursting into tears.

And swearing, albeit sweetly, at him.

"You fucking asshole," Cora yells as she clenches her hands into fists and cries. "The only thing wrong with you is that it took you this long to fucking realize there's _nothing wrong with you_! You're the best brother I've ever had. You taught me how to ride a bike and you helped me tie my shoes and you read to me at night when I was sad because grandma wasn't there to do it anymore even though you got half the words wrong! And when I got older you taught me how to throw a punch and that I should never let anyone pressure me into doing anything I didn't want and that I shouldn't try to be like Laura just because we were sisters and that you loved me just as I was, being a brat and all! I can't believe you were walking around thinking that little of yourself when you're my favorite person in the entire world and the one I look up to and I love you _so fucking much_, Derek. _God fucking dammit_!"

Derek has no idea what to say or how to react to that, considering the dramatic sister is Laura, so he just opens his mouth and says weakly, "I'm the only brother you ever had."

Cora actually _growls_ in frustration, and next thing he knows his chair is being tipped sideways as she throws herself at him.

The fall to the floor in a tangle of limbs, the air rushing out of Derek's lungs as he gets his arms around Cora, burying his face in her hair as she continues to cry and swear at him.

Laura slides out of her chair and to her knees, dropping her head so her forehead is resting against Derek's, her hand in his hair, her own tears falling against his cheek.

And for the second time in two days Derek finds himself surrounded by those he loves, with words like_ you asshole_ and _I'm so proud of you_ and _I love you_ and _we'll be here for you, for whatever you need, whenever you need it_ echoing in his ears.

And he has to say he agrees with Cora.

Because they're certainly the best sisters he's ever had.

* * *

"I thought I'd be the one who would have to come and see you," Talia smiles softly at her son as she puts down the pen she's holding and leans back into her office chair. "But I'm glad we changed things up a bit this time around."

Derek ducks his head and tries to keep himself from wincing.

When his relationship with Kate came to an end, he couldn't really stand seeing his mother.

The guilt was too overwhelming whenever he thought about her and how it was his fault it all happened, because he was the one who brought Kate into their lives.

It took two weeks and her _breaking into his apartment_ at five in the morning for him to speak to her, and even then they didn't really have much of a talk.

It was mostly Derek crying and apologizing, and his mother crying and telling him everything was going to be okay.

He figures it's progress that this time it only took him six days to see her, and he's the one who got in his car and drove to the Preserve.

"I'm sorry," Derek still says, because he knows she must be worried about him, especially if people have kept her updated on his mental state since Saturday,

Talia sighs, bracing her hands against the office table and pushing her chair back.

Derek stays where he is, standing by the office door, as his mother gets up and walks up to him, only to take one of his hands in hers and lead them to sit on the big leather couch by one of the office walls.

"You know better than to think you have to apologize to me for this," his mother says as they sit down. "Breaking the flower vase your Aunt gave us for Christmas when you were five deserves an apology, but taking some time to get your head on straight doesn't."

"Laura told you," Derek purses his lips together.

He means both about the vase and his realization about himself, and by the glint in his mother's eyes?

She knows.

"Yes, she did," Talia nods. "But I already knew that. Back then from the way you kept glancing away every time I said the word _vase_, and now because you're here and sitting in front of me."

Derek can feel the tips of his ears start to flush under his mother's gaze, and he can't help but lower his gaze again, a little bit of that guilt making itself known again.

That is until Talia grabs his chin between two fingers and forces him to look up at her and says, "You don't have to be embarrassed by that, or about any other thing you ever did or want to talk to me about. I'm your mother. I'm immune to embarrassing things after raising three children."

Derek lets out a snort at that, but finds himself relaxing a little.

He knows talking to his mother won't be as easy as talking to his friends or sisters, especially because she was the one who, aside from him, got hurt worse when the whole thing with Kate happened.

But he also knows that what he has to say will mean more to her than it meant for them, and not just because she's his mother and wants the best for him.

And again, just because he wants to talk to her, it still doesn't mean he suddenly finds the words to do so.

Like his sisters, she waits.

She doesn't say anything when he lies down on the couch and rests his head on her lap, just like he used to do when he was a kid and had a bad day at school, cupping his shoulder with a hand while the other starts running through his hair.

And just like it was easier for him to tell her what was bothering him back then, it's easier now to get his words out.

"Do you still have the number of the therapist you were seeing right after we moved back here?"

It's good that he can't see his mother's face right now, can only focus on the way her fingers never stop or hesitate to continue to move in his hair.

After his dad died, she shut down.

For three entire days, she wouldn't speak or eat or move or _function_.

It was like she took that time to grieve and give in to the pain and hurt and despair the death of the man she loved brought with it before acknowledging she had three kids who lost a father depending on her and a man who lost his brother needing her help, and she had to be there for them, too.

She started going to therapy three weeks after the funeral, because even though she knew she still had people to live for, it didn't make it any easier to not succumb to the weight his death had on her.

Just like when the fire happened.

Derek was too young to really understand what his mother was doing two times a week when she left them with their dad for an hour, but he knew whatever it was, it made her look a little less sad when she came home.

"I do," she says, voice steady and calm and like Derek talking about the idea of going to _therapy_ isn't a fucking miracle. "I can call her later and ask her if she has any recommendations for other doctors in town."

Derek nods, cheek scraping against the fabric of his mother's skirt, before licking his lips and taking a deep breath and saying, "I'd like to start. Therapy, I mean. I think- I think it'll help me. With some things."

"Okay," Talia says.

And Derek is kind of stunned.

Because, _okay_?

Just _okay_?

Like Derek saying that isn't a big deal?

Like she didn't beg him to see someone after Kate, to help him with things, and he snapped and screamed and fought and told her _no fucking way_ until she dropped the subject.

"That's it?" Derek can't help but ask, voice small. "Just okay?"

"Just okay," his mother says, bringing the hand from his shoulder to tug at his ear. "I figured if you want to explain to me why the sudden change of heart or tell me what's going on with you, you'll do so without me having to ask you about it."

Derek turns his head to look and raise an eyebrow at her, only to have his mom do the same back down at him.

He presses his lips together before sighing and turning his head back again, licking his lips as he tries to think of a way to tell her that he's maybe now just come to realize that she and the rest of their family and Derek's friends have been right all along.

And that Derek's view of himself was wrong at best, and twisted at worse.

"You know about-," Derek starts, stops, keeps going when his mom tugs at his ear again. "You know about what happened Saturday."

"Laura might have mentioned something," his mom says, voice low and soft.

Derek can't really help but roll his eyes at that, because really.

"Laura tells you _everything_," Derek mutters, hissing when his mom takes his earlobe between two nails and _pinches him_.

"No back talking your sister."

"Sorry," Derek says automatically, not meaning it one bit.

"Right," Talia huffs before poking him in the neck.

Derek figures that's his mom's way of telling him to go on.

"I didn't- I might have- If I-," Derek lets out a frustrated breath, brows furrowing and mouth thinning as he struggles to speak.

"Take your time," his mom tells him in a tone that's both commanding and understanding, and Derek does just that.

When the words come to him a few seconds later, they flow easily out of his mouth and pass his lips.

"If Laura told you about it, she told you I didn't have one of the best reactions to it," Derek says, encouraged when his mom makes a sound in the back of her throat. "And at first, after Cora drove me home, I didn't really know how to wrap my mind around everything. I was just overwhelmed, I guess, about what I thought everything meant."

Derek pauses to let himself go through what he just said, because even though he's been thinking about all of this these past few days, today is his first time saying it out loud.

And saying it out loud helps him better understand his own thoughts and reactions to everything that went on.

"And then I had a talk with Isaac," Derek continues. "He told me some things I had a hard time believing was true, not because I thought he was lying to me, but because I didn't want to risk having it all blow up in my face later. I didn't want to have hope only to be taken away from me. But what he said was enough to make me start thinking about a few things."

"It was the same thing with Boyd," Derek tells her. "He said some of the same things, and this time he really got me to thinking about all of that stuff I thought of when I talked to Isaac. He made me wonder. And he made me doubt of certain ideas I had about- About myself and who I was and what I did or didn't do."

"But it was with Erica that I started getting it," Derek says. "That I started to realize that what they were saying was true and what I was thinking was fu-"

"_Language_."

"-dge up," Derek wrinkles his nose. "I realized that my view of some things wasn't really right, and that it was because I was too caught up in things that had happened to me before, and not what was happening now."

Derek stays quiet for a few seconds, knowing his mom picks up on _what things that had happened before_ means.

"And then Laura and Cora came to talk to me," Derek says, lips curling up at thinking about his sisters. "Laura confirmed some of the things Isaac said, and that had a really big impact on me deciding to come here today."

"That's good," his mom offers, and Derek can hear the smile in her voice.

"Cora screamed and called me an asshole, though," Derek pipes up.

Derek hears his mother sigh, and the hand she has on his hair disappears to undoubtedly pinch the bridge of her nose as she swears under her breath.

Derek smirks.

It's his duty as an older brother to get his sisters into trouble, and he knows this was a job well done.

But then he adds, "And she also told me I'm the best brother she's ever had."

His mother lets out a snort of her own, sounding incredibly amused when she says, "You're the only brother she's ever had."

Derek shrugs one shoulder, pressing his head back against his mother's thigh so she goes back to playing with his hair.

"I figured out a lot of things," Derek tells her. "By talking to them. About myself and- And Stiles and what happened Saturday. So I came here. To tell you about it. And so you can gloat when I tell you I think it'd be good if I started therapy."

"I don't gloat," Talia says without missing a beat, voice softening and lowering when she says, "But I am proud of you. I know it's not an easy thing for you to ask other people for help."

Derek doesn't say anything to that, because it's true.

He didn't feel worthy of help, of leaning on someone, of letting them share his worries and problems.

But things are changing now.

Or at least he wants them to change, hopes for them to change, and he knows he's the one who needs to take that first step for that to happen.

Admitting he has a problem before he goes on about how to solve it.

And that's where therapy comes in.

"Can you call your doctor now?" Derek asks, turning on his back so he can look at her.

"You sure?"

Derek nods, lowering his eyes before saying, "It's better to do it now before I change my mind."

His mother nods, understanding this really _isn't_ an easy thing for Derek to do.

That even though it appears like he's resolved into doing this, he's basically hanging by a thread that can snap at any moment.

Talia gets her hands on his shoulders and pushes him up into a sitting position, walking back to her desk as she goes about finding her old doctor's number and calling her.

She doesn't really get a chance to when the phone rings just then, Talia leaning in to check the caller ID before answering the call.

"How's New York?" she asks, turning to Derek and mouthing _Peter_ when he gets up from the couch to sit in one of the chairs in front of the office table.

Whatever Uncle Peter says gets his mother going perfectly still before she looks back at Derek and holds his gaze.

"Derek's actually here right now," she says, Derek's eyebrows raising in silent question. "So if you want to explain to him what you did and why you did it and who told you to do it, I can put you on speaker."

Derek gets a sinking feeling in his stomach at those words, mind going back to the time he told Stiles about Uncle Peter's thirst for information and getting his nose into other people's business.

He just hopes to _hell_ he didn't come home earlier than planned when someone told him about what happened and went to see Stiles.

He must say yes, because his mother is pressing a button on the phone and saying, "Go ahead."

"Hello, nephew," Peter's voice comes through the speaker, and Derek doesn't know whether to be worried or not when it sounds like he's _happy_.

"What did you do?" Derek asks, not wasting any time.

"You're not even going to ask me how I am? I know your mother raised you with better manners than that."

Both Derek and his mom look at each other before saying, "Spill."

Peter makes a clicking sound with his tongue before sighing, "You two are no fun."

Derek scrubs a hand over his face while his mom looks skyward as if asking for strength.

"Uncle Peter," Derek says, and in a much lower voice. "Please."

His uncle is silent for a few seconds before he speaks, tone serious, "Cora called me and told me what happened."

It's Derek's turn to look upward this time, because of course she did.

"So I took the liberty of confirming whether or not what your boyfriend said to Laura about his friend was true."

Derek's entire body goes tense.

Because he believes Stiles when Laura told him he told her he had no idea who Kate was because he never knew his friend had any family.

But until now it never crossed his mind to think Stiles' friend might have been lying.

"And?" Derek asks, swallowing around the lump quickly forming in his throat.

"No _thank you, Uncle Peter, for taking the time out of your busy life to do that_?" Peter asks. "No _oh, you didn't have to, but I'm grateful for you going through the trouble of doing it anyway_? No_ I owe you one_?"

"Peter," Talia barks, lips pinched in anger at having him him dance around the issue.

While Derek fights hard not to throw up on the floor as the certainty he had about being able to _be_ with Stiles again, if Stiles would have him, is about to flow out the window.

"Fine," Peter says, clearing his throat. "As long as you don't ask me how I got the information that _she_ has a brother named Christopher Argent, who currently lives in Beacon Hills with his daughter, Allison, who didn't even attend his own father's funeral a few years back, and who has had zero contact with his sister since his daughter was a teenager, I don't see why we can't go on talking about more pleasant things, like, let's say, when I'm going to meet the famous Stiles."

Derek's mind is spinning as he tries to grasp the meaning of his uncle's words, relief at knowing it's all true turning into curiosity at why the Argents don't speak to or about each other turning to gratitude at having Peter do this for him.

Even though he probably got his information through means not quite so legal under the eyes of the law.

And then his gratitude turning into horror at the idea of him and Stiles meeting.

His mom must see how fucking scared he is of this idea, because she doesn't hesitate to jump in and tell Peter that, "I think Derek and Stiles need to have a few serious conversation before Derek introduces him to you."

And that doesn't really do nothing to calm Derek down - it actually just makes it all worse -, because he _does_ need to talk to Stiles and he is _not_ looking forward to doing so.

"Well," Peter says. "I hope that talk happens soon. Because I have to say, I'm rather excited about finally meeting him."

Derek must still look like he's on the verge of breaking the fuck down again, because his mother only says, "And you will. But I'm afraid we're going to have to let you go now. I have an important call to make, and Derek needs to head back to the loft. Goodbye, Peter. It was nice talking to you."

Talia doesn't wait for a response before she's hanging up the phone and turning to Derek, "Do I need to get a paper bag?"

Derek blinks, shaking his head and taking a deep breath before letting out out slowly.

"I'm okay."

His mom only raises an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not okay," Derek tries again. "But I will be. I think."

Talia nods, giving him a long look before saying, "Was it because of the idea of Peter meeting him or because of me saying you two have to talk."

"Both," Derek says, and then adds, "But mostly having to talking to him."

"Okay," his mom nods again. "Okay. How about I make that call while you sit there and take your time to think about why is that?"

It's Derek's turn to nod, and as his mom smiles at him and starts looking for her old doctor's number, he realizes he's not really scared about having to see Stiles again, or about having him say he doesn't want anything more with Derek.

Those things are still a big part of it, yes, but not the one that sends Derek into almost blind panic whenever he thinks about it.

Because what really truly does?

It's Stiles taking him back.

Because Derek knows if he does, there's no way he's ever letting Stiles go.

Derek is in love with him, and that's what scares him the most.


	9. Chapter 9

**a/n: warnings** for discussion of past emotional abuse. details at end notes.

it's been two months since i started writing this. so thank you so fucking much to everyone who's left reviews and messaged me on tumblr and followed or favorited the story. i'm not joking when i say it's you guys who keep me going. :3

also, **read the bold part at the end notes it's important pls and thank**

* * *

Stiles hands are shaking.

Stiles hands are shaking and his heart is thumping wildly in his chest and his stomach is doing somersaults in his belly.

Stiles totally has this.

"You can do this," Stiles says, breathing deeply in and out. "You can do this."

He swallows hard, raising a hand up to knock on the door.

Because this is it.

He's going to do like Scott said and see Derek.

And talk to him.

And hope he listens and doesn't slide the door shut on Stiles' face as soon as he sees him and before he starts explaining himself.

Not that he really needs to explain himself, he just needs to explain the situation.

And then hopefully they can go back to being boyfriends again.

Please.

Stiles' hand is up in mid-air just a few inches from the door.

All he has to do is knock.

It's pretty simple, really.

Just rapping his knuckles against the cold metal and wait for Derek to answer.

So they can talk.

Stiles can do this.

_Really_.

He can totally-

"Oh my god, I can't do this," Stiles breathes out as he lets his hand fall and turns on his back.

Forgetting everything about Scott's pep talk saying he loves Derek and everything will be fine.

And letting the fear of rejection swallow him whole, instead.

Because what if explaining changes nothing?

What if Derek doesn't want to be with him anyway?

What if he never wants to see Stiles again?

What if they're broken up for good?

_What if_?

"Are you going to stand there muttering to yourself and freaking out or are you going to knock?"

Stiles yelps.

And hits his shoulder against the door.

And curses his life and the universe when Isaac slides the door open and stares from Stiles clutching his shoulder to Cora.

Who's leaning against the closed elevator door with her arms crossed over her chest and both of her eyebrows raised.

"What are you doing here?" Isaac asks him, face carefully blank.

Stiles doesn't know if that's a good thing or not, but it doesn't keep his stomach from turning into knots as he glares at Cora before looking back at Isaac.

"I'm here to see Derek," Stiles tells him, licking his dry lips as he mentally high fives himself for not letting his voice crack with nerves.

You know, now that the choice of running away has been taken out of his hands.

"You're here to see Derek," Cora repeats as she pushes herself off the elevator door and comes to stand beside Isaac.

"Yes," Stiles nods, and when they don't say anything or move out of the way, he adds, "I need to explain some things to him. And apologize."

"Apologize?" Isaac blinks at him, eyebrows raising a little in confusion.

"I assume you know about what happened?"

Both Isaac and Cora glance at each other before looking back at him, nodding.

Great.

No need to relive that nightmare by telling them about it.

"Well," Stiles starts, clasping his hands against his back to keep himself from fidgeting. "I put him at risk. Even though I had no idea about any of it, it still happened. I made him feel like he wasn't safe being around me, and I need to apologize for that. So I'd appreciate if you'd let me in so I can tell him that myself."

Stiles swallows hard at that, because now both Cora and Isaac are staring at him like they've never seen him before.

And then Cora is rolling her eyes so hard Stiles thinks they might fall off her head.

"Oh my _god_," Cora huffs. "You two _deserve_ each other."

Stiles blinks.

What?

"What?"

"Seriously," Cora shakes her head. "You think what happened was your fault?"

"I-," Stiles starts, stops, blinks a couple more times. "A little bit, yes?"

Because he could have pushed Derek for more information about his ex-girlfriend.

And he should have told him who his friends were before dragging him to dinner.

And he should have tried harder to make him listen when he was trying to tell him he had no idea Allison was related to Kate.

So even though it's not _all_ of his fault, he can't help but feel a little bit guilty.

"You and Derek are perfect for each other," Isaac says, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Just _perfect_."

Stiles doesn't understand what's happening.

"I don't understand what's happening."

"What's happening is that you two apparently have the tendency to feel guilty about things that are not in your control," Cora says, looking like she doesn't know whether to laugh or cry at the situation.

And that stops Stiles in his tracks.

Because Derek is feeling_ guilty_ about what happened.

Like he did something_ wrong_.

And Stiles can't stomach the idea that he's fallen into that mindset again, that nothing he does is right, just like when he was with Kate.

Stiles feels like he should apologize for that, too.

For making Derek feel that way when all he did was have perfectly normal reaction to a stressful and potentially traumatic situation.

"I need to talk to him," Stiles tells them, voice much weaker this time.

Because he needs to fix this.

He's needed to fix this a week ago, but he's here now, and he needs to stop wasting time and get to it.

So Derek can stop feeling like this town isn't safe and that being around Stiles isn't safe and that he's the one to blame for what happened.

"Okay," Isaac nods. "There's only one problem, though."

"What?" Stiles asks, feeling his stomach drop.

"Derek's not here."

Stiles' breath hitches at that, heart going into overdrive as he tries to process what Isaac is telling him.

"What do you mean he's not here?" Stiles says, voice pitched high and panicky. "He _left_?"

"He's-" Cora tries, only to be interrupted by Stiles before she can go any further.

"He can't leave! I have to talk to him. I have to tell him she won't come here, not now, not fucking_ ever_. I have to tell him about Allison and what happened to her. He needs to know nothing's changed and I love him and I want to be with him and that none of this was his fault and that everything is going to be okay and-"

Stiles next words are muffled by Cora's palm covering his mouth, her eyes twinkling in amusement as she says, "You're gonna stop talking, and you're going to take a deep breath, and then you're going to listen to us, okay?"

He's still trying to speak and tell them how Derek being here is _not fucking okay_, but he forces himself to do what she says and calm himself down.

Because freaking out right now is not going to work for anyone, and if he wants to find out where Derek is he needs to keep himself in check long enough for Isaac and Cora tell him.

So he stops trying to make himself heard, instead taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, and then widening his eyes trying to telepathically tell Cora he's okay.

And to get a fucking move on.

Cora slowly drops her hand to her side, taking a step back and to Isaac's side again before saying, "Derek didn't leave. He just spent the night back at the old house with our mother."

"So he's still in Beacon Hills?" Stiles eyes them hopefully.

"Yes," Isaac nods, lips twitching up before he quickly turns his expression blank again.

Stiles feels all the air rush out of him at that, only to come back as he gulps and starts getting worked up all over again.

His hands are shaking a little when he nods at them, squeaking, "I'll be going then," and turning around so he can get back to his car.

And drive to the Preserve.

To go and see Derek.

And to figure out where they go from here after they have their much needed talk.

Isaac stops him with a hand on his shoulder, and when Stiles turns to look at him is to find Isaac and Cora glancing at each other.

Stiles can recognize they're having a conversation just by the twitch of their eyebrows and the way Cora sometimes moves her nose.

It reminds him a little bit of Allison and Scott, if he's being honest.

Whatever conversation they're having is done when they both nod at each other, and next thing Stiles knows Cora has a hand on his elbow in addition to Isaac's grip on his shoulder, and Isaac is sliding the loft's door shut and leading him to the elevator.

"What are you doing?" Stiles blinks at them, eyes going from one point of contact to the other.

"We're taking you to see Derek," Isaac tells him as they get into the elevator and start going down.

"You don't need-"

"Your hands are shaking," Cora says, voice calm. "We're not letting you drive like that and get in an accident before you get a chance to tell my brother you're in love with him."

Whatever protest Stiles was going to make dies in his lips as he snaps his mouth back shut.

And gets even more anxious about this whole thing.

Because he's gonna have to do that, right?

Tell Derek he loves him.

It doesn't necessarily have to be right now, but that's a thing that's gonna have to happen at some point.

Because Stiles does love him, a fucking lot, and Derek deserves to know how he feels.

And hopefully he feels the same way about Stiles.

Please.

Actually, hopefully Derek will just be willing to listen to what Stiles has to say, love confessions be damned.

Because this is more important than the feelings Stiles has and, well, feels.

Derek needs to know him and his family are safe before Stiles opens his mouth and declares his undying love for him.

Which is why Stiles' mouth kind of runs ahead of him and asks, "Do you think he'll listen?"

He doesn't know what's expecting, but to have Cora smile at him is not it.

And it's not a smirk or a grin or anything like that, but an actual _smile_ that's soft and caring and is kind of freaking Stiles out a little bit.

"Yes," Cora says quietly. "I think he'll listen."

The rest of the elevator ride is done in silence, not that it takes long before they're stepping out of it, Cora's words stuck in Stiles' head as hope blooms in his chest that maybe Scott is right and everything will be okay after all.

That doesn't really help him a lot with his nervousness, though, as they step outside the building and walk towards-

"The car is not here," Stiles says, eyeing the three bikes parked in the space left for parking in front of the building.

"It's with Derek," Cora says as she lets go of him in favor of getting closer to one of the bikes.

"Then how are we supposed to get to the house?"

Stiles doesn't like the way Isaac and Cora are grinning at him.

Not even a little bit.

Nope.

Especially when Isaac gets the spare helmet on his bike and shoves it into his chest as he says, "We ride."

Stiles gulps.

Isaac and Cora keep smiling.

And next thing Stiles knows he's on the back of Isaac's bike as they ride to the Preserve.

So Stiles can talk to Derek and apologize and explain to him why he'll never have to worry about Kate appearing in Beacon Hills.

And discuss their relationship.

Or if they still have one.

Or if they don't, if there's a possibility they could fix that.

Stiles is so lost in his own head that is not until Isaac is parking in front of the old house that he notices they're there.

And that there are three people standing on the porch waiting for them.

He climbs off the bike and takes off his helmet, handing it back to Isaac as he and Cora do the same.

He pointedly ignores Laura, Erica, and Boyd's presence, settling for keeping his eyes on the ground and trying not to freak out about how close he is to doing what he came here to do.

His palms start sweating.

And his stomach starts protesting.

And his heart starts beating rapidly in his chest.

Cora gets a hand on his elbow again, her grip light as she nudges him forward.

"Alright, alright," Stiles mumbles, glaring at her when Cora flashes him a quick grin.

Isaac throws an arm around Cora's shoulders as they walk up to the house, Stiles fighting the urge to turn around and run screaming into the deep woods and away from here.

It's a close call, but he manages to walk up the steps of the porch.

And keep his arms hanging by his side instead of crossing them over his chest in a defensive move.

Which, when faced with both Laura and Erica staring at him, is a pretty big feat.

He still doesn't say anything, though.

Not that he needs to, when Laura raises an eyebrow at him and says, "I'm assuming you're here for Derek?"

"You are correct," Stiles nods, licking his lips.

"To fix things between you two?"

Stiles doesn't think this is really any of her business, but he figures if he was in Derek's place, his friends would do the same thing.

"If that's what he wants, yes," Stiles says quietly but firmly, and when Laura looks at him like she's expecting more than that, he adds, "I just want him to be okay. I came here to tell him he doesn't have to worry about risking bumping into- into Kate while he's in Beacon Hills and that, for me, nothing's changed between the two of us. I want him to feel safe, and I want him to be happy. And if that happens to involve me? _Awesome_. More than awesome, actually."

"And if it doesn't?" Erica is the one who asks him, face impassive.

"Then that's okay, too," Stiles says honestly, even though his stomach drops. "I'm not going to say it won't suck and I won't be heartbroken about it, but after I explain everything and tell him I still want this? Still want there to be an us? It's his decision to make, not mine. And if he doesn't want anything to do with me? Then I'm going to respect that."

Stiles hadn't really planned on giving them a speech, but he figures they have a right to ask questions.

You know, considering the state Derek was after his sisters came to pick him up a week ago, and how they're the ones who took care of him later.

So all he can do is be honest, tell them how he feels, and hope that's enough for them to see that all Stiles wants is what's best for Derek.

What _Derek_ thinks and knows it's best for him, based on his own choices after he hears what Stiles has to say.

Even though the decision to listen to Stiles in the first place is a choice in itself.

Stiles hopes Derek will be okay with seeing him.

What he isn't hoping, though, is to have Derek's sisters and three best friends staring at him with little pleased smiles on their faces, eyes glinting, like what just came out of Stiles' mouth is the best thing they've ever heard.

Stiles' cheeks flush.

"You're a good guy," Boyd says, surprising Stiles when he claps a hand on his shoulder.

You know, even more than he already is from having _Boyd_ call him a _good guy_.

And from having _everyone_ give nods of agreement.

"I- Thank you?"

"You're welcome," Boyd nods, letting his shoulder go and crossing his arms over his chest.

Isaac lets out a snort, Stiles turning to him only to see him hiding a smile against the top of Cora's head.

Stiles doesn't know if he should feel offended.

He decides he shouldn't when Erica walks up to his side and bumps their shoulders together, Cora offering him a sweet smile when he looks at her, and Laura giving a nod of what Stiles thinks is approval.

Especially when Laura says, "I think you'll do alright, Stilinski," and Erica adds as she winks at him, "I think he'll do _great_."

Stiles can't help but feel a little more sure of himself at that, giving them both a sharp nod before clasping his hands together and rocking back on his heels.

"Can we go in now? I have to go confess my undying love for someone."

He gets grins from Cora, Laura, Erica, another snort from Isaac, and a small smile from Boyd at that, heart beating a little faster as Laura pushes the front door open and gestures an arm inside.

"After you."

Stiles makes a face at her, taking a deep breath as he mentally prepares himself to take that first step.

That first step to see Derek for the first time in a week, be close to him, talk to him, maybe- maybe kiss him.

You know, if Derek is okay with it.

And if he's not.

Well, Stiles doesn't want to think about that right now.

The house looks just as he remembers it, not that he really spent a lot of time in it the first and last time he was here.

There's still that deep feeling of _home_ and _comfort_ as he steps inside, though, making him breathe a little easier as he gathers the courage to go talk to Derek about what happened Saturday and everything he's learned since then.

"Derek's in his room. And we'll be in the backyard," Laura tells him, although Stiles doesn't know why Laura calls the _forest_ surrounding the back of the house her _backyard_. "You can come to us later if you need someone to drive you back to the loft so you can get your car."

Stiles nods, even though he wishes he won't need to ask anyone for a ride because Derek will offer one himself.

"We'll be able to hear you if there's any screaming, too," Cora tells him. "Just so you know."

"Hopefully that won't be the case," Stiles mumbles, swallowing hard.

"I think you'll be okay," Erica says, grinning at him as she pats him on the cheek. "You're too cute for anyone to even consider letting you go."

Stiles is saved from having to answer to _that_ comment when he hears Boyd clearing his throat, his eyes glued to Erica the spot Erica's hand is still touching.

Erica lets her hand drop with an even wider smile, "You know you're the only for me, right Boyd?"

Boyd's lips twitch up, arms uncrossing so he can snake one around Erica's waist and pull her flush against him.

The pang on Stiles' chest is not one of jealousy.

Nope.

He's just happy they have each other.

Really.

He is.

"You should go," Isaac says, Stiles' gaze snapping to his as his palms start sweating. "Derek probably heard us come in, already."

Stiles clenches and unclenches his fists, takes a couple of deep breathes and lets them out slowly, mentally preparing himself for the conversation he's about to have.

He barely notices everyone staring at him in equal parts amusement and sympathy, waiting for him to nod and say, "Okay," before they start turning around and going back outside.

But not before Stiles hears couple of _good luck_ and _yell if you need us_ and _don't fuck it up or we'll fuck you up_.

And add that on top of the click of the door snapping close, and Stiles wants to run the fuck away all over again.

But he reigns that in, trying to think back to Scott's words of wisdom about this whole thing.

About how he needs to do this, needs to tell Derek what he knows, needs to make sure he's okay and safe and that none of this is on him, no matter how scared Stiles is of doing so.

And that nothing has changed between them, as far as Stiles is concerned.

You know, feelings-wise.

Because Stiles still wants Derek just as much as he did before, if not more.

Actually, probably more, if he's being honest.

"Laura, could you take this up to- Oh."

Stiles doesn't startle.

He doesn't.

He also doesn't jump in place and turns around so fast he almost gets his feet tangled up and has to brace a hand against the front door to keep himself upright.

Really.

And his stomach doesn't drop and his eyes don't widen as he stares at Mrs. Hale staring right back at him while she holds a plate with sandwiches in one hand and a steaming mug in the other.

"Hello, Stiles," Mrs. Hale says, eyes crinkling as she smiles pleasantly at him.

"Uhm. Hi?" Stiles says, voice a little higher than normal.

Because he doesn't really know what to do with this.

With Mrs. Hale staring at him and _smiling_ at him like he's not the reason her son is hurting and probably going out of his mind with worry about having someone related to Kate living in the same town as him and his family.

"I take it you're here to see Derek?"

Stiles blinks at her, feeling completely out of his depth.

He still manages a nod, though.

Barely.

"Would you mind taking this upstairs, then?" Mrs. Hale glances down at the plate and mug in her hands. "Derek's in his room."

"I know," Stiles blurts out, wincing when Mrs. Hale blinks at him. "I mean, Laura told me. When she let me in. Because I need to talk to him. Derek, that is. So. No, I don't mind taking this up with me. Since that's where I'm going anyway. To see Derek. Up in his room. Yep."

Mrs. Hale looks at him with something that looks really close to his dad's _I don't know what to do with you but at least you're entertaining_ expression, and Stiles has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep himself for saying anything else.

He's nervous.

And sometimes he babbles when he's feeling that way.

It's better they know this about him now than later on.

And by later on Stiles means when he and Derek are back together again.

So Stiles just nods sharply before walking up to her and taking the plate and mug out of her hands, "I'll take it to him."

Just as he's taking a step back he feels a hand curl around his wrist, and Stiles has to swallow hard before he has the guts to look Mrs. Hale in the eye as he hears whatever she has to say.

Which will probably involve threats about hurting her son or not being good enough for him or wishing they've never met.

But he should know better, since Derek's friends and sisters' reactions weren't exactly what he was expecting, so there's really no reason why his mother's would be either.

"I know you won't understand why I'm telling you this," Mrs. Hale starts, smile still in place. "At least not now. But, thank you."

Stiles stares at her, because she's right.

He doesn't understand.

That still doesn't keep him from saying, "You're welcome?" even though it comes out as a question, because his mother raised him right.

Mrs. Hale takes her hand off his wrist in favor to pat him on the cheek, much like Erica did earlier.

And just like her daughter, she says, "I think you'll do alright," before waving a hand in the direction of the stairs, "Now up you go."

Stiles nods again at her, turning on his back and walking towards the stairs, having absolutely _no fucking idea_ what just happened.

He figures it's a good thing all of Derek's friends and family think everything will be okay, but still.

Them saying so doesn't really do shit to help Stiles feel better about any of this.

Although, he is feeling a lot more optimistic about this whole thing than he was on the drive to the loft, so he figures he can try to hold onto _that_ feeling instead of the almost crippling anxiety as he starts his way up the stairs.

And in the direction of Derek's old room.

Where he is right now.

With the door open.

Sitting on his old bed with a book in his lap.

And staring at Stiles.

Because Stiles might have whimpered a little bit.

And oh god.

_Oh._

_My._

_Fucking._

_God._

"Stiles?"

Derek's voice is low, small, coming out in a rush of breath as his eyes widen a fraction before his face blanks, but Stiles can tell by the way his eyebrows give a minute twitch and his fingers grip his book tighter that Derek's not as calm as he's trying to make himself appear to be.

And the way his chest rises and falls a little bit faster and his lips part tells Stiles that Derek's not particularly averse to having him in his room.

Which is a really good thing since, you know, Stiles needs to talk to him.

Something he should be doing right now, in fact, instead of standing by the door and _staring_.

So of course Stiles completely loses whatever resemblance of calm he had _himself_ - which wasn't much to begin with, really -, raises the hand holding the plate, and blurts out, "Sandwiches?"

Because _of course_.

_That_ totally makes sense and is _exactly_ what he came here to say.

"I- _What_?"

And now Derek's frowning at him, mouth thinning as he looks from Stiles to what he's holding and back to Stiles again.

Like he has no idea what the fuck is going on.

Stiles kind of wants to die.

Things are _not_ going as he planned.

Not that he planned ahead of getting in his Jeep and driving to the loft and _knocking on the door_.

Which, thinking about it now, is not even something he managed to do.

"Ugh, this is _not_ going how I planned," Stiles says, forgetting he's also holding a mug when he comes to run a hand over his face, hitting himself in the nose and hissing when the hot porcelain makes contact with his skin.

"Jesus," Derek mutters as he gets up, throwing the book on the bed, walking up to Stiles, and taking the plate and mug out of his hands. "What are you doing?"

Making a fool of _himself_, that's what he's doing.

And when Derek doesn't move away from him Stiles can't help but take a deep breath and fill his lungs with the scent of Derek and leather and stupid fucking _pine needles_.

_Fuck_.

Derek is staring expectantly at him, still waiting for an answer.

Which Stiles promptly gives him by saying, "Your mother asked me to bring this up for you."

Even though he knows that's not really what Derek meant.

And it's not like anyone can blame him for not being a hundred percent right now.

Not when seeing Derek for the first time after an entire _week_.

And after the way they left things the last time they saw each other, with Derek looking like he'd just been stabbed in the back and Stiles having a panic attack.

"My mother-," Derek shakes his head, sighs, turns and sets the plate and mug on the nightstand before taking a step closer, realizing what he's doing, crossing his arms over his chest, and taking two steps back. "What are you doing here?"

Stiles lets his eyes rake around the still practically empty room, biding his time as he feels his anxiety stirr up, before he gesture to the still open door and asks, "Is it okay if I…?"

Derek nods, mouth thinning as Stiles mutters, "Right," under his breath and closes the door.

And then just stands there.

Trying not to work himself into a panic.

Fidgeting.

And staring at Derek.

Who's kind of looking super calm and like it's totally cool Stiles suddenly appearing in his room after a week and sort of acting like nothing happened.

You know, especially when Stiles clasps his hands together and goes ahead and says, "So, how are you doing?"

Only to wince as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

_Seriously_ not going as he planned.

Which is why he's not expecting the low snort he hears from Derek, eyes snapping to attention as he looks back at him only to see Derek clench his jaw and smooth his expression back into _nothing_ when he realizes what he's doing.

That he just _acknowledged_ Stiles making an absolute fool of himself.

But that still serves as the little push Stiles needs, like knowing he still affects Derek in a good way is enough to give the little bit of hopes he needs to carry on.

You know, kind of.

"You don't have to answer that," Stiles shakes his head. "You don't even have to talk to me if you don't want to. Well, I mean, I have something important to tell you and it'd be in all of our best interests if you'd listen, but after that you have no obligation to hear anything I have to say if you don't feel like it so don't think you have to-"

"Stiles," Derek huffs, eyes glued to his.

He doesn't say anything else, just Stiles' name, but that's enough to make Stiles' breath hitch and his heart speed up and the butterflies in his stomach to make themselves known.

Because Stiles _missed him_.

He missed him_ so fucking much_ that it's not until he's _here_, in front of _Derek_, having Derek say his _name_ as he's _looking_ at him, that it hits him full-force, right in the fucking chest.

And at the same time it feels like hearing his name coming from Derek's lips is _the best fucking thing_ that's ever happened to him, _it fucking hurts_.

Because he has no idea if he'll ever hear it again.

Suddenly all Stiles wants to do is to get this fucking over it so they can move on to the part where Stiles tells Derek how he feels and Derek says he still wants him and Stiles throws himself at him and they make out and eat Mrs. Hale's sandwiches and cuddle on Derek's bed.

And then make out some more.

Not that the universe helps him when he finally gathers the courage to open his mouth and get on with the subject, only to hear a faint, "Shhh, I can't hear anything."

And a, "Are they even talking?"

Followed by a, "Shut the fuck up or they'll hear _you_."

Stiles' mouth snaps close with a click, just as Derek closes his eyes slowly and lets out a breath before looking skyward.

And looking equal parts pissed at the interruption and resigned, like he was expecting it.

And then he looks right at Stiles, uncrossing his arms to make a gesture for Stiles to come closer.

"What-," Stiles tries to ask as he starts walking, only to have Derek shush him and point a finger to the window.

That is open.

Stiles raises his eyebrows in question at him, blinking when Derek just tilts his head at him to follow as he turns and walks to it.

He purses his lips but trails behind, not that he has to take more than just a few steps for him to be by Derek's side, swallowing hard when their arms accidentally brush.

It's the first time they've touched in a week, and Stiles feels it in his bones.

One in particular.

That being his dick.

Who misses Derek the most, even though he's never had him.

But it's not just that, not just being sexually attracted to him.

Stiles misses cuddling on the couch while watching old shows and holding hands while they grocery shop and bumping their noses together before stealing kisses and sleeping in the same bed wrapped around each other.

He misses just spending time with Derek and slowly falling in love with him the better he gets to know him and just-

Stiles wants that back, goddammit.

But before he can dwell on that they're both sticking their heads out of Derek's bedroom window, looking down, and locking eyes with, well, everyone.

Aside from Mrs. Hale, who Stiles thinks is classy and doesn't eavesdrop on people.

Unlike _them_.

"Oh shit," Isaac says as he looks up, eyes wide in that deer caught in the headlights kind of way.

Only to have them snap back down when Cora pinches him in the stomach and hisses, "I told you they'd hear you."

"And I wouldn't have said anything if Erica hadn't started it," Isaac tells her, waving a hand at Erica.

Who loses the smirk she has aimed at Derek and Stiles when she turns to glare at Isaac.

"And _that_ wouldn't have happened if I could concentrate on what they were saying and not Laura's _heavy breathing_."

"_Excuse me_?" Laura protests, gaping at her. "I do _not_ heavy breathe."

"I told you we'd have better luck if we camped out in the hallway," Boyd pipes up, shrugging when everyone looks at him. "But no one listens to me."

Stiles just keeps staring at them at they all start to argue, fingers tapping against the windowsill, "Are they always like this?"

Derek sighs, deep and tired but still incredibly fond, "Yes."

Stiles makes a humming sound in the back of his throat, stepping back when Derek moves away from the window.

Not because he doesn't want Derek near him.

Or to accidentally brush against him.

It's just that, if that happens, Stiles will not be responsible for his actions.

Those being _climbing Derek like a tree_.

A very sexy tree.

Or just hug him and never let go.

Derek's fishing a pair of boots from under his bed before sitting on said bed, his back to Stiles.

Who takes his time watching him, taking in the span of Derek's shoulders and back, the muscles rippling under his shirt as he moves and slips his boots on, the flushed skin of the back of Derek's neck and ears that make Stiles want to taste and _kiss_ and _bite_ until Derek's blushing for a whole different reason other than embarrassment.

Stiles almost doesn't notice Derek getting up, too busy just standing there and_ staring_ at him, but he snaps back to attention as soon as Derek turns to him, expression now guarded.

And says, "C'mon."

"I- What?"

It's not Stiles fault it takes him a minute.

Derek's standing in front of him and it's been a week and he missed looking at him, okay?

He missed _Derek gazing_.

It's one of his favorite pass times and he's been deprived of it for seven days.

So it's kind of hard not to get his fill now that he cans.

Derek sighs, raising an eyebrow at him and glancing at the window before looking back at Stiles, "You don't want to have this conversation while my entire family can hear us, do you?"

Stiles opens his mouth.

And closes it back up.

Because no, he really really really doesn't want that.

He wants the opposite of that, actually.

"Lead the way."

Derek does, opening the bedroom door, Stiles following behind him, making sure to give Derek some space as they walk down the stairs together.

Because as much as he wants to plaster himself to Derek's back and never ever let go, he doesn't know if Derek feels the same, at least not yet.

So he'll keep his distance.

An arms-reach of distance.

You know, in case Derek does feel the same and then all Stiles will have to do is extend an arm and grab a handful of shirt or arm or neck or hair and pull Derek to him.

And kiss the fuck out of him.

And because that's what he has in mind, _Derek_ and _making out with Derek_, Stiles might let out a startled yelp when he sees Mrs. Hale waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, jingling keys.

You know, might.

Not that anyone says anything or points out how jumpy he is today.

Which is understandable, really, considering the anxiety has had time to build up again and Stiles feels like he's going to crawl out of his own skin if he doesn't go somewhere quiet with just Derek and him so they can _talk_.

"You two can go to the bar," Mrs. Hale says as she throws the keys at Derek, who catches them in one-hand. "While I go yell at your friends and my daughters and remind them all that we're not a pack of wolves and I raised them all better than this."

Stiles kind of wants to hug her right now, but he doesn't know if Derek will appreciate the gesture.

"Thanks, mom," Derek mutters, ducking his head a little.

Stiles would be worried about that reaction - you know, the whole lowering his gaze and not making eye-contact and acting shifty thing - if it wasn't for the fact he can see Derek's lips pull up in a faint smile.

He doesn't know what happened between them, but in a way, it feels like Derek and his mother are a lot more comfortable and at ease with each other than the last time Stiles saw them both together.

He wonders what happened to result that change in their relationship.

And if Mrs. Hale thanking him before had anything to do with it.

Not that Stiles can see how he could possibly have done something to smooth Derek's relationship with his family, but it's not like he's been around for the past week to know if anything happened.

You know, other than Stiles and Derek finding out Allison has other family and this family is actually the person who used to date Derek and emotionally abuse him.

"You're welcome," she says, waving a hand at them. "Now go."

They don't waste time with goodbyes, mostly because Mrs. Hale turns her back to them right there and then, making her way back to the kitchen.

Stiles is still staring after her with his brows furrowed a bit in confusion, so he doesn't notice Derek staring at him until he says, "You remember where the bar is?"

"What?" Stiles turns to him, blinking.

"The bar," Derek says slowly. "Do you remembers where it is? You could follow me. In your car."

"Oh," Stiles says, and then shakes his head. "I don't- The Jeep- Isaac and Cora drove me here. My car's back at your- At the loft."

Stiles has to bite down on his bottom lip and clench his fists to keep himself from cringing at how fucking _awkward_ he sounds, stuttering his way into an answer.

Kind of like Derek does sometimes.

But without the added cuteness, because Stiles thinks that adorable is the farthest thing he looks or sounds like when he's like this.

"I- Okay," Derek clears his throat. "You can ride with me then."

Stiles stomach does that swooping thing it does at the mention of _riding_, just like it did the first time he saw Derek when Lydia introduced them as partners for the Egg Run.

"Alright," Stiles rasps out, shaking his head to clear any thoughts of him and Derek from his mind. "Alright."

He needs to stay focused.

On right now and what's going to happen and what he needs to say.

And not fantasizing about Derek and the things he's always wanted to do _to him_ and_ with him_.

What he ends up doing is worrying about how he's supposed to survive the ride to the bar when riding in the back of Derek's bike, pressed against his back, his arms around Derek's waist.

And then he doesn't have to worry about that at all because Derek is directing him to the Toyota Isaac parked close to when they got to the house.

And isn't that a relief?

That now all Stiles has to do is sit in a car with Derek until they get to the bar while suffering in uncomfortable silence because what Stiles needs to tell him cannot be said while Derek's is driving.

Unless he wants to run the risk of getting into a car accident.

Which he doesn't.

He wants them both alive and well and with all of their limbs attached.

Stiles is fond of his limbs.

And Derek's.

Especially Derek's.

So he swallows down his anxiety - not that it helps much, and by that he means _at all_ - and gets in the car with him.

The ride is actually more pleasant than Stiles expected it to be, but that's mostly because as soon as Derek takes off, he reaches a hand to turn the radio on.

Stiles decides not to feel offended by Derek obviously not wanting to speak to him until they reach their destination because he feels the exact same way.

What bothers him, though, is that the closer they get to the bar, the more Derek loses the relaxed posture and feel he had when Stiles met him at the house.

His face is closed off, the grip he has on the steering wheel tighter, and his face is drawn in tense lines.

Stiles gulps.

Because it feels like Derek is steeling himself for something, and Stiles has no idea what it is.

Actually, he has a few ideas, you know, based on what he learned this past week about Kate's treatment of Allison and how it might have been similar to Derek's and Derek reactions to certain things Stiles did or said when they were together.

None of those ideas are good.

But Stiles knows better than to assume things about people, so he tries to keep an open mind and not freak the fuck out about all of this _again_ as they get to the bar and both he and Derek climb out of the car, walking up to the entrance.

Stiles' chest gets tight when he's faced with the place they had their first date only a few months ago, eyes raking over the space and throat closing up as his mind brings back the memories of that night.

The bar looks pretty much the same as it did back then, only with no a table set in the middle of the room and Stiles feeling like he's the happiest person in the world to have Derek do something as romantic as this for him.

Stiles wonders if his life will have more moments like that one.

If they'll work things out.

He hopes so.

He really fucking hopes so.

But judging by the way Derek's starting at him blankly as he moves around to go sit in a bar stool and gesture for Stiles to take the one in front of him, he has no idea how Derek will take things.

So he decides to cut his suffering short - not that it's been short, because it hasn't, not at all; it's been an entire week going half out of his mind worrying about this and feeling guilty about sharing Derek's history with other people without his consent and being miserable and feeling sorry for himself only to then feel like the worst human being in the entire planet when learning about Allison and what happened to her and how that might have been exactly what happened to Derek - and get to the point.

Only Derek does it for him.

And in the worst way Stiles could ever imagine.

By saying, "I'm sorry."

Stiles gapes at him.

He can't help it.

He gapes at him because he _cannot_ believe Derek is apologizing for this, and then he has to swallow around the lump in his throat at remembering his conversation with Allison, remembering what he said to Derek that night in front of Danny's, remembering thinking Derek might see everything that happened as it being his fault for not telling Stiles who Kate was.

Derek takes his stunned silence as permission to keep going, eyes trained to his hands as he speaks, "I shouldn't have- I should have stayed and let you explain to me that you- And I didn't. I panicked and I ran and I'm sorry for-"

"No," Stiles says, slapping a hand over Derek's mouth and efficiently cutting off his apologies. "Nope. I'm not going to sit here and listen to you apologize to me, and do you know why?"

Derek shakes his head slowly, brows furrowed as he stares at Stiles, that lost look from a week ago back on his face, like he has no idea what's going on or why it'd be upsetting to Stiles listening to him say he's sorry about what happened.

Stiles presses his lips together, because he knows this is something that comes from Derek's past relationship with Kate, even though he doesn't really know what happened.

He knows Derek's feelings of unworthiness and thinking he can't do things right originated with her, and he feels sick to his stomach when seeing Derek react like that when he's with him.

And the promise he made to himself to prove to Derek that there's nothing wrong with him and to make him understand that he's a good person and _Kate_ is the one that fucked things up and _is_ fucked up is about to be put to test, because there's no way he's going to let Derek think he needs to be sorry about all of this.

"Because it was _not your fault_," Stiles says the words slowly as he stares at Derek straight in the eye. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, because you didn't do anything wrong. I completely understand why you felt like you had to- like you had to walk away from me, and I don't blame you for it. For _anything_ that happened that night."

Stiles' voice cracks at the end, but he keeps his gaze trained to Derek's, making sure he understands what Stiles is saying.

Derek blinks at him a couple of times, eyes round, and tries to say something that gets muffled by Stiles' palm.

"Sorry," Stiles drops his hand, still tingling from the impression of Derek's lips against his skin.

Derek clears his throat a couple of times, eyes never leaving Stiles, and his voice sounds small and a little hesitant when he finally speaks again, "You don't blame me?"

Stiles curls his hands into fists to keep himself from doing something stupid like reaching out to him or punching a hole in the bar, settling for shaking his head and says with as much conviction as he can muster, "You have nothing to be blamed _for_ because _it wasn't your fault_ and_ you didn't do anything wrong_."

He doesn't know what's going through Derek's head as he stares at Stiles like he's never seen him before, but whatever it is makes him close his eyes and let out a sigh of what Stiles thinks is relief, his shoulders slumping forward and he ducks his head and scrubs a hand over his face.

"I didn't-," Derek shakes his head, pressing the heel of his palm against his eyes. "You don't think it's my fault."

"Of course I don't," Stiles says softly. "If anyone should apologize for something, it's me."

"What?" Derek's head snaps to him, brows furrowed. "Why would you-"

"I should have told you the names of all my friends before dragging you out to meet them," Stiles tells him, looking away from Derek. "It was not fair to you to bring you to dinner having no idea who they were, and it's because of that you-"

"It's not your fault," Derek stops him, again staring at Stiles like he can't quite believe him. "I don't- I'm- It's _not_ your fault. I don't blame you for that."

They stare at each other for a couple of seconds before Stiles lets out a low chuckle, shaking at his as he stares helplessly at Derek.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" Stiles says mostly to himself.

Because here they both are, blaming themselves for things that are out of their control.

He now understands what Cora meant when she told him they're perfect for each other.

Derek nods at him, licking his lips before he glances around the bar and says, "Isaac told me that, and Laura confirmed it, that you didn't know about- About her? That your friend never…"

Stiles lets out a shaky breath, because this is it.

This is why he came after Derek.

Well, this and because he loves him and wants to see if they can still work things out.

But mostly this.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually," Stiles says, running a hand through his hair. "Allison never told any of us, aside from Scott, that she had any family other than her dad, so until you told me about- Until you told me who your ex-girlfriend was, I had no idea she even existed."

Derek seems to relax even more at that, as if having Stiles confirm what his friend and sister told him is enough to take a little bit of the weight he's carrying off his shoulders.

And Stiles hates that he's probably going to ruin that when he tells him _why_ that is.

"So you don't need to worry about her coming here," Stiles keeps going, kind of in a rush to get this out and make sure Derek knows he doesn't have to worry about this, that he's safe. "I went to talk to Allison after what happened at dinner and asked her about- About _her_, and Allison told me a little bit about what happened between her, her dad, and her aunt. That's who she is to Allison, her aunt. And Allison told me that they haven't had any contact with her since Allison was a teenager, and that if she knows what's best for her, she won't be coming here. Ever. And I know that's what you were worrying about. If you stayed here you'd run the risk of seeing her, or if we- If we stayed together you might bump into her because Allison's one of my best friends and she's supposedly family, but that's not going to happen. Because she won't be here. Not unless she wants to pick a fight with the hospital, the fire and police department, and Allison's dad. Scott's words."

And when Derek just looks at him without saying anything Stiles adds, "Except for the part about the police department. That's mine. Because if my dad gets wind of what she did, then he'll do everything he can to make sure she has a pretty uncomfortable stay in Beacon Hills."

He doesn't mention how his dad already _knows_ about it.

Because Stiles _told him_ about it.

Derek is still looking at him like he can't quite grasp all the information Stiles just dumped on him, so Stiles bites down on his bottom lip to give him some time and keep himself from saying anything else.

And the mentally prepare himself for the rest of this conversation.

"So they don't...," Derek trails off, frowning a little. "They're not close. At all."

Stiles knows it's a statement, not a question, but he still shakes his head and says, "Allison and her father hold no love for her. They might share a last name, but from what Ally told me she's far from being their family."

The thing is, Stiles doesn't really know if he needs to tell Derek about Allison.

He doesn't know if Derek needs to know the details, or if just having the confirmation that Kate won't ever be coming here is enough for him to let this go, no questions asked.

It might help him knowing there's someone out there who went through the same thing he did in the hands of the exact same person, but it also might make everything just a little bit worse.

So Stiles doesn't know if he should go ahead and explain to him why Allison and her father hate her aunt so much, or if he should just let it go.

In the end, Derek makes the decision for him, frown deepening as he looks hesitantly at Stiles before asking, "Why?"

Stiles lets out a breath.

And swallows hard.

And licks his lips and looks Derek straight in the eye and says, "It's not a happy story, and before I say anything about it I need to let you know that it might- You might-"

"It might remind me of some things," Derek finishes for him, expression haunted as understanding dawns. "And it might be hard for me to listen to."

"Yes," Stiles breathes. "So- uhm- you should keep that in mind. Before- If you still want me to tell you about it."

Derek goes quiet in the way that he does when he's thinking about something, and Stiles leaves him to it.

It's important Derek knows what kind of story Stiles will have to tell him before he makes the decision to listen to it, especially when the story will probably bring back some bad memories from what happened to him and the time he spent with Kate.

He needs to think about that and decide for himself if he can handle it.

So Stiles lets his eyes wander around the bar, the wall covered in picture frames grasping his attention just like it did the first and only time he was here, and gets a little bit lost in wanting to know the story behind all of them.

"I'll tell you about them," Derek interrupts him from his thoughts, making Stiles' gaze snap back at him. "The pictures. We'll need something else to talk about after you tell me about the Argents."

Stiles blinks at him a couple of times before nodding slowly, kind of torn between feeling ridiculously proud of Derek for wanting to know what happened and really fucking sad for being the one to tell him someone went through the same thing he did.

And also hating having to be the person to do it, because he knows this is going to hurt Derek, and that's the last thing he wants to do, ever.

But Derek wants to know, and Allison told him he could tell him, so Stiles will do as he asks and hopes this doesn't have that of an negative impact in the person he loves.

"Okay," Stiles says, mentally bracing himself for having the worst conversation he'll ever have with anyone in his entire life. "If at any moment you feel like I need to stop talking or you need some time to yourself or to think or to break something, promise me you'll tell me to stop."

Derek regards him for a few seconds before his eyes soften a bit - not enough that the dread and hurt disappear from his face -, making something loosen in Stiles' chest and get him thinking that maybe this will be okay after all.

Well, not okay.

But maybe it won't be as horrible as he's thinking it's going to be.

"I promise."

"Alright," Stiles lets out a breath. "Well, like I told you, Kate is Allison's aunt. She's Mr. Argent's little sister, and for what I understand she's a lot closer in age to Allison than she is to her brother. I don't know if you know any of this already?"

Derek shakes his head, eyes lowering when he says, "She never mentioned any family aside from her father. I guess she and Allison have that in common."

Stiles blinks at him, "Oh. Well, Allison said she never really had any contact with her grandfather. Her dad's relationship with him wasn't- I guess they didn't _have_ a relationship, not really. And Allison said that's actually one of the reasons why her dad always welcomed Kate into their home. Because he wasn't particularly fond of his father and didn't like the idea of Kate spending time with him."

Derek's brows furrow a bit, mouth thinning, "She never- I know her father passed away a few months before my dad, and I remember her telling me how hard it was for her to have to handle the- the funeral arrangements by herself. And she always spoke highly of him and of how much she missed and loved him."

Allison's words come back to him, how she told him being around Kate felt like a gift she was being given, especially after all the times Kate deemed her unworthy of her attention.

If what Stiles thinks about Kate only following the cycle of abuse she found herself in because of her father, it doesn't surprise him as much as it should that she'd feel that way about him.

That she'd love him and look up to him and think he was a good person, because she never understood that the way he acted towards her wasn't right.

Much the same way Stiles thinks Derek loved Kate, even through all the horrible things she did to him.

"That's where she-," Derek starts, closes his eyes. "It was because of her father, wasn't it? That she was the way she was, did the things she did."

"I don't know," Stiles tells him honestly. "I don't know them to assume anything about their relationship or who they are as people, but Allison thinks so. She doesn't know her grandfather, but as far as she can tell about the bits and pieces she knows about her dad's history with him and how Mr. Argent didn't like having Kate near him, she thinks that's how it was. That Kate acted the way she did because that's how she grew up."

And Derek looks gutted.

Like hearing Kate was just a product of the environment she was raised in is the worst possible thing Stiles could have told him.

Stiles thinks he understands, a little.

Derek loved her once upon a time, and it always hurts knowing someone you loved had something bad happen to them.

He just hopes Derek's not thinking this excuses what she did to him.

Or to Allison.

That just because she was treated badly growing up, she can do that to everyone else she meets.

So Stiles goes ahead and says it, anyway, in case that's exactly what's going through Derek's mind right now.

"You know that doesn't excuse what she did, right?" Stiles asks him, eyes intent on Derek, who avoids his gaze and doesn't say anything. "_Right_?"

Derek opens his mouth and closes it again, eyes trained to his hands clasped in his lap.

Fuck_ that_.

Stiles is not going to have this.

He's not going to let Derek think what she did wasn't bad just because she went through the same thing.

No, fuck you very much.

So he doesn't even think before leaning in and cupping Derek's face between his hands, raising his head so that they're eye to eye and Derek can see how fucking serious Stiles is about this.

"Having bad things happen to you doesn't excuse every shitty thing you do to other people," Stiles tells him. "Kate being abused by her father doesn't make the abuse she put you and Allison through okay. She could have broken the cycle, but she didn't. That's fucked up, and I'm sorry she never got the help she needed, but that doesn't mean you should accept what she did to you like it was something that couldn't be helped, like she didn't have a choice in the matter because that's what she grew up in. That's utter and complete bullshit. Allison grew up the same way because of _her_, and she's one of the most amazing people I've ever met. So no making excuses for Kate and her shit, because what she did was _not okay_. Growing up in a fucked up family or not, _it was not okay_. Do you understand?"

Derek's face is pale between Stiles' hands, eyes huge and a little lost as he stares at him, front teeth peaking out from his half-parted lips.

His voice is low when he speaks, almost like it hurts him to talk, "Allison?"

Oh shit.

"I-," Stiles' face twists as he mentally kicks himself for fucking this up, for dropping that on Derek's lap without some kind of warning.

Because it's one thing for Derek to know what happened to him, but it's another thing to find out it happened to someone else.

"Stiles," Derek's hands come to wrap around Stiles' wrists, holding him in place. "What happened to Allison?"

Stiles looks helplessly at him, lowering his eyes when Derek just stares right back.

"Derek-"

"I need to know," Derek whispers, eyes intent on Stiles' face as if willing him to open his mouth and spill it all out.

"I'm-," Stiles presses his lips together, before sighing and saying, "Are you sure? I mean. I just-"

Derek swallows hard, eyes blinking closed for a second before he opens them slowly, expression hardening as he shakes his head and croaks out, "I need to hear this."

"I- Okay. But I can stop if you need me to," Stiles mutters. "Just say the word, and I'll do it."

"I need to hear this," Derek repeats. "And then I need to tell you what- I need to tell you about what happened to me."

Stiles is pretty sure his heart stops in his chest before picking up beat again, only this time a lot faster.

He's not going to tell Derek he doesn't need to say anything, or that they can do this another time.

This has been a long time coming, and Stiles will leave it to Derek to know he's now ready to share that story with him.

So he just nods and says, "I'll listen."

"I know," and that soft look is back on Derek's face before it vanishes as he says, "Now tell me about her. Please."

Stiles nods, taking a deep breath and licking his lips as he tries to keep his stomach from churching as he starts speaking.

"Allison and Kate were close, when Allison was little," Stiles says, focusing on the warmth of Derek's hands around his wrists. "Like I told you before, Mr. Argent didn't have a close relationship with his father, so he always liked having Kate around his house, because then it meant she was away from their dad. Allison said that things weren't bad when she was a kid, but as she started getting older, Kate started- Well, she started getting _meaner_, I guess? Like, she'd make comments about Ally's clothes and looks and the way she presented herself to other people."

Stiles feels Derek's jaw clench beneath his fingertips, feels the ragged breath he lets out against his face, feels Derek's nails digging into his skin.

And he knows he just gained a little bit of knowledge about what Kate used to say and do to Derek.

Because, apparently, it was the same thing she did to Allison.

"Just say the word," Stiles whispers, eyes raking over Derek's face.

"It's okay," Derek says, voice cracking, and before Stiles can say that it obviously _isn't_, he adds, "It's not okay, but- But I need to know. I think- I just need to know.

"Alright," Stiles gulps. "Alright."

"Just-,"

Stiles' eyes follow Derek as he gets up and goes behind the bar, fishing two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from one of the shelves, before he settles them on the counter and sits back down on his stool in front of Stiles again.

Stiles doesn't know whether he should laugh or cry at that.

He decides to do neither, settling for opening the bottle and filling their glasses.

"Okay?" Stiles asks, nudging Derek's glass closer to him.

"Okay," Derek nods, but makes no move to drink.

Stiles decides to follow his example, even though he thinks he'd rather tell this story while numb from alcohol.

"Okay," Stiles breathes out, waiting for Derek to nod again before he restarts. "Well, Allison didn't really- She didn't go into details. She told me there were some things she wasn't comfortable talking to me about. But she said- She said after a while it got really bad. She felt like she couldn't do anything right, like the more she tried the more she fucked up. I think- I know this made her really anxious about being around Kate, she told me that much even though she didn't really go into specifics about it, but I think it got to the point where that started interfering with her health. Like, not just- not just mentally, but physically, too."

Derek's only reaction to that is the way his lips thin, but when he still makes no move to go for the glass - or entire bottle, really - of whiskey, Stiles keeps going.

"She said it was her mom who found out about what was happening," Stiles tells him. "That one day she came home early from work and heard Kate- The things she said to- And then that night her parents told her to go up to her room, and in the next morning Kate was gone. Allison said she never saw or heard from her again. And that's it. Well, I mean, that's what I know. About Allison. What she told me. And what I'm telling you now."

Derek closes his eyes after Stiles is done, his grip in Stiles' wrists so tight it almost hurts.

Stiles can tell this is Derek trying to calm himself down and process everything he just heard, so he stays quiet and lets his thumbs trace lightly at the stubble on Derek's cheeks.

The silence stretches between them, only breaking when Derek squeezes Stiles' wrists one more time before letting his hands drop and muttering a, "_Fuck_," under his breath.

Stiles also lets his hands fall to his sides, the skin tingling from the rasp of Derek's stubble, and before he can open his mouth to ask Derek if he's okay, Derek is grabbing his glass and taking a rather large sip of whiskey.

Well, that answers it.

"Derek?" Stiles tries, biting down on his bottom lip as Derek keeps his gaze locked on his glass, face a blank mask once again.

"I met Kate not long after my father passed away. Four years ago," Derek says, and Stiles goes utterly still in his seat. "She worked at the company with my mom, but in a lower position. I don't remember if she was- I don't remember if she was at the funeral, but the few of the times I stopped by my mom's office a couple of months later, I remember she would always be nearby. Dropping some files, leaving messages, getting staples."

Derek takes another sip of his drink, clearing his throat before he continues.

"The first time she spoke to me it was to say she was sorry for my loss," Derek says bitterly. "Everyone around the office knew about the accident because of who my mother was, so it wasn't really unusual to be there and have someone walk up to you and offer their condolences. Not that she did that, actually. She started by saying she heard about what happened. And that she had lost her dad about six months ago, so she knew that there was nothing she could say to me that'd make me feel better. So she offered to take me out and get me wasted, instead," Derek snorts, shakes his head. "I was so fucking _relieved_ to have someone who _understood_ how I was feeling that I didn't even hesitate before I said yes."

Stiles presses his lips together, his hate for Kate growing in intensity as he remembers Derek telling him about how she wanted something, saw the opportunity in him, and ran with it.

At knowing that said _opportunity_ was Derek's grief over his father's death and how easy it would be for her to exploit that to her advantage.

"That's how it started," Derek tells him. "How _we_ started. At first it was- I was just- It felt great to be around someone who didn't walk on eggshells around me. She helped me deal with dad passing away and learning to come to terms with him not being around anymore. I got- Well, I got better. So I have to give her that. Right after he passed away I wasn't really- I didn't really _care_ anymore. And when I started to- When- Well, not when I came around, because the death of someone you love is not something you ever get over. But when I started focusing more on the good memories rather than the fact that he was _dead_, to say my family was thrilled was an understatement."

Stiles gets that.

It took him _months_ to be able to think about his mother without having a panic attack, and it took him _years_ to be able to talk about her without bursting in tears.

And Stiles kind of wants to wrap his arms around Derek's family and friends and hug the shit out of them.

Because even though he doesn't know them very well, or at all, really, he can still tell how much they care about him, how much they love him.

So Stiles can understand why they'd be so happy to see _Derek_ happy.

"They wanted to know what changed," Derek says, eyes locking with Stiles'. "So I introduced her to them."

Which is why Derek was so hesitant to do the same thing with Stiles.

And it doesn't really tell Stiles anything he didn't figure out for himself already, but it's good to have that confirmation.

It also hurts.

"She fit right in," Derek continues, eyes lowering to his half-empty glass. "With my sisters, my friends, with mom and Uncle Peter. I think mostly they were just happy _she_ made me happy, but the more time we all spent together, the more they ended up loving her. Just like I did."

Stiles tries not to feel jealous at that.

He really does.

It's ridiculous for him to feel threatened by her when she's obviously not and is never ever going to be a part of Derek's life again.

Because he can't help it.

He knows himself enough to know there's a part of him that's never going to be happy about knowing Derek loved and was in a relationship with other people before him, but that's something he's just gonna have to deal with.

Hopefully by being the last person Derek ever dates.

"Things were good for a while," Derek says. "We were- I was happy. With her. I just- I loved her, so I didn't see anything weird with us always being at my mother's house whenever she had one of her friends over, or Kate offering to be my mother's date at company parties or events she had to go to because none of us liked that stuff, or her going off to meetings with people she met through my mom, or spending a lot more time at work."

Stiles bites down on his bottom lip, wanting to say something or reach out to Derek and make the betrayed expression on his face disappear.

"But it seemed like- It seemed the more she got where she wanted," Derek says, stopping to empty his glass. "The more important friends she made, the connections, the networking. Getting invited to dinners and parties and events, not as a plus one for my mother, but just for herself. Having people notice her, her work at the firm, her _potential_. The more she climbed up, the worst she got with me. Because it was all about appearances, and for her I wasn't cutting it."

_Just like Allison_ is what Derek doesn't say, but it's clear by his reaction to what Stiles told him about what happened earlier that they went through the same thing.

"She- What- I'm not-," Derek stops, bracing his hands against the wooden counter of the bar. "I don't- I don't think I can go into detail. About what happened. The things she said. At least- At least not yet. Not now. I don't-"

"Okay," Stiles says, voice coming out raspy from lack of use. "You don't- You- I'll tell you the same thing I told Allison. You tell me whatever you feel comfortable with, and I won't push. I won't ask any questions. At least not now."

Stiles can't promise later.

Mostly because he thinks they'll need to have a conversation about that after they've had time to think about and process all of _this_.

Derek looks at him for a beat or two before nodding, grabbing Stiles' still full glass instead of going for the bottle and refilling his.

"It was-," Derek starts after taking a sip. "What you said. About Allison. It was mostly the same. Comments here and there about how I should make a little more effort to dress nicely, or talk to people whenever we went out, or _make a good impression_. It was her constantly telling me I was embarrassing her in one way or another when we went out. That _was it too much to ask_ for me to not fuck things up for her when she was talking to someone she thought was important? That couldn't I _understand_ this was her job and she needed to look a certain way for people to take her seriously? Was I too _stupid_ to get it? And didn't I realize how _lucky_ I was for looking the way I do since I didn't seem to have the brains it took to be around her friends and colleagues? That if it wasn't for my _pretty face_ or my _hot body_, I'd be all but useless to her?"

Derek spits the last sentences out like they physically hurt him, and Stiles knows for sure this is him spewing out the exact words he used to hear from her.

And suddenly a lot of things about Derek are starting to make sense.

Because if this was what he used to hear on a daily basis, if this is what she made him believe about himself, it was no wonder he always acted like he was expecting the other shoe to drop whenever he was with Stiles.

As if he wanted to make sure Stiles was with him because of who he _was_ and not because of how he looked.

"It was like-," Derek says, voice cracking. "It was like I could _never_ do anything right. And the more recognition she got from the work she did, the more people she met, the higher up in the company she went, the worse things got. It wasn't just about what I did or didn't do in front of people she thought she had to look good for. It was about how much of an issue it was to spend time with me. How she had too many things to do or was too busy or had a meeting with someone to bother to go on dates with me or visit my family or _act like she cared_."

Stiles' stomach churns as he thinks about the lost look on Derek's face whenever Stiles did something nice to him, like he didn't understand why it was happening, why he deserved it.

He always wondered where that feeling came from, why he saw things that way, and now he knows it's because Kate stopped bothering with the little things about their relationship in order to focus on her job.

Because that's what she wanted from the beginning, wasn't it?

A better job position, more connections, recognition, _money_.

"It was like being with me was a _chore_ to her," Derek tells him, lips thinning. "Like it was something she had to _endure_ to get what she wanted, where she wanted to be. The dates, the trips, hanging out with my family and friends, having sex, it was all an _obligation_ to her. Something she did because she had to in order to get what she wanted, and not because she liked it or wanted to. It was all- It all meant _nothing_ to her."

As Stiles listens to this, his mind goes back to the first night Derek stayed over, how he told Stiles the reason why he never initiated things between them was because his ex-girlfriend didn't seem to enjoy whenever they were together, and he was afraid Stiles would feel the same way.

Except being with Derek was all Stiles ever felt like doing.

Kate saw him as a job, as an obstacle she had to overcome in order to get to the finish line, and Stiles kind of wants to hunt her down and rip off her fingernails.

"No one knew about it," Derek keeps going, swallowing hard. "About what she did and the things she said. I never- I couldn't tell them. I wasn't- They loved her, and I didn't want them to blame me for taking her away from them. I thought they'd- I didn't want to know if they thought I deserved what I got from her, or having them be angry at me for being- For screwing up our relationship and fucking up things between them, their friendship."

Stiles' heart breaks for Derek.

For thinking he couldn't go to the people he loves most because Kate had already twisted him up inside so fucking much he couldn't see they'd never blame him for distancing himself from her and breaking off their relationship.

"We were together for about two years," Derek says, glancing at Stiles before looking back at the counter. "And we probably would have dated longer than that if I hadn't pocket dialed my mother while Kate was in the middle of- Well, I guess that's another thing Allison and I have in common. Uncle Peter got me out of there and into an empty apartment he had, as far away from her as we could get."

Derek takes a deep breath before he continues, expression darkening.

"But it didn't matter, because she got what she wanted," Derek spits out. "She got an offer from another company in the city to go work for them as a senior associate. More money, more recognition. Everything she worked so hard for. Everything she expected having a relationship with me and a connection to my mother would get her."

Derek shakes his head, eyes closing for a minute before opening again.

"Isaac, Erica, and Boyd came to stay with me at Peter's, because I didn't really- I couldn't face my family. Not after- Not when I still thought that-," Derek's jaw clenches, lips thin. "It took me a while before I could be anywhere near them again. But even then it was more because I knew I couldn't avoid them forever and not because I felt like I deserved to be in their presence. Because I didn't. I still felt like a fuck up, like a disappointment, like I wasn't anything _good_."

Derek chokes up on the last word, hand coming up to scrub at his face.

And Stiles can't take it.

He's actually really proud of himself for not having done anything sooner, but right now he can't help but get up and walk behind the counter and to Derek.

Only to hesitate as he reaches out a hand to land on his shoulder, not knowing if Derek likes to be touched when he's like this.

Derek's still not looking at him, face covered behind his hand, so Stiles lets his arm drop and does what he does best.

He talks.

"I said this before, but I don't know if you got it, so I'm going to say it again," Stiles tells him, swallowing hard. "None of this, _none of it_, is your fault. You didn't deserve the way she treated you, coming from a fucked up family or not. There's nothing you could have said or done that excuses what she did._ Nothing_. You-," Stiles' voice cracks. "You're one of the most amazing people I've ever met, and if I have to tell you that you're not to blame for any of this until I get blue in the face, I will. _She_ was the one who did something wrong, not you. All you did was love her, and you should never be sorry or feel guilty for that. _Never._"

Derek still has his face hidden, but Stiles can see by the light tremors running down his arms and the shallow rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes that he's affected by Stiles' words.

"And you're wonderful, okay?" Stiles says softly. "You're loyal and bighearted and patient and cute as fuck and one of the sweetest and bravest people I've ever met. You love your family and you'd do anything for them and there's _nothing_ wrong with you. There was _never_ anything wrong with you. Do you understand?"

Derek gives a full body shudder before letting his head drop, head turning to the side just enough so when Derek looks up, he can lock eyes with Stiles.

"Do you understand?"

"I- I'm-," Derek blinks at him, jaw clenching as he croaks out, "I think I'm starting to."

Stiles' shoulders slump in relief at hearing that, eyes stinging with unshed tears at knowing Derek's coming to the understanding that none of this was on him and he's a good person.

"That's good," and isn't that the biggest fucking understatement of the evening. "That's really good."

Derek must agree, considering the way his lips curl up a bit at the corners and he lets out a huff, body relaxing little, and shakes his head, blinking up at Stiles.

They just stare at each other for a while, taking the other in, basking in each other's presence and the comfortable silence that follows after such a heavy conversation.

There's still a lot that needs to be said about what was talked about, a lot they need to discuss, but for now it's enough to just stand there and do nothing but share same air.

Until Derek moves to tug at the sleeve of Stiles' plaid shirt, tilting his head to the side and saying, "C'mon."

Stiles follows as Derek beings to walk, part because he's curious and part because Derek still has a hold of his clothing.

Not that he's complaining.

At all.

It's the opposite of that, actually.

Especially when they come to a stop in front of the wall covered in pictures.

Oh, right.

It's the first time Stiles has seen them up close, now actually being able to take his time staring at them and _recognizing_ people instead of just blurbs that look like people.

Like Boyd and Derek wearing aprons, rolling something that looks like pizza dough, and staring blankly at the camera.

Or Erica sitting on the hood of a black Camaro sitting in a garage, lips stretched into a smile, while Laura leans against the side of it, arms crossed over her chest and head thrown back as she laughs.

Or a younger Cora in something Stiles thinks is a prom dress, the tips of her boots peeking out from under the hem of the skirt, with Isaac standing by her side, an arm thrown over her shoulders, both of them making faces at whoever is taking the picture.

There are a few pictures Stiles knows have been taken at the Preserve, but the house doesn't look anything like it does today and the people in it are not ones he recognizes. He figures they must have been of Derek's family before the fire, and his heart constricts in his chest as he stares at the smiling faces looking back at him.

Stiles grins when he zeroes in on a photo of teenager Derek, looking a lot less built then he does now but _exactly_ the same, smirking at the camera and holding a basketball. He can see the shadow of someone creeping in the left corner of the picture, but they're too far away for Stiles to see their face.

There's also a photo of a much much younger Mrs. Hale - that Stiles only really recognizes because of the long black hair and the tilt of her lips as she smiles - straddling a bike, with a man that looks a lot like Derek sitting behind her, his arms around her waist.

"That's my dad," Derek says when he notices him looking. "This was right before they got married."

"He looks like you," Stiles says softly.

Derek nods, fingers coming up to trace the edges of the frame before dropping again.

"Mom was the one who taught him how to ride," Derek says quietly. "He wasn't really big on bikes before he met her. Thought they were too much trouble. Too dangerous. Mom likes to say she changed his mind by taking him on the wildest ride of his life for their first date. While dad used to say he took one look at her straddling a bike and holding at the handlebars and couldn't possibly leave her to ride alone in case she got hurt. Mom usually flicked his ear whenever he said that, like he wasn't the one who had more bike related injuries and accidents in the first couple of years they dated than she ever had in her life."

Stiles snorts, lips curling up in a smirk at the obvious lie Derek's dad used to tell.

It's obvious for anyone who meets her that Mrs. Hale needs absolutely _no one_ to take care of her.

She's one badass lady.

"Dad was the one who came up with the idea," Derek keeps going, the edge of a sad smile playing at his lips. "He used to say mom's office at the company was too stuffy, too cold, too lawery. She needed some life in it. Something to remind her life wasn't just long hours and court days and unhappy clients. So he took it upon himself to bring a little bit of family into it. Every time he dropped by the office he would do it with a frame in hand. With pictures of our family before the- Before the fire. Of Laura, Cora, and I when we were kids, of them back when they used to date, of Uncle Peter and dad playing basketball, of old friends from Beacon Hills and new ones they made when we got to New York, and later on of Isaac, Erica, and Boyd, too."

"He sounds great," Stiles says, voice a little strangled.

Because his mother kind of did the same thing back when his dad was a deputy, filling his desk with pictures of the three of them together or Stiles' drawings from school.

You know, to remind him that he had to come back to them every night.

"He was," Derek nods. "When we moved here, mom wanted to keep the tradition. To bring a little bit of family to her workplace, never mind that Cora and Boyd are going to work here when the bar opens. So she set up the wall. With enough extra space to put up more pictures if we feel like it."

"It's nice," Stiles says, swallowing. "That you guys have this."

That in the middle of so much tragedy they were able to hold on to the good things and take a little bit of strength from it.

Derek nods again, jaw clenching as he lets his eyes wander over the collection of frames, sometimes lingering in the ones where his father is in.

"She never had one," Derek says a while later. "A picture on the wall. Kate never had a place in it. Even before- Even before things got… bad. She was never there."

Stiles thinks it's a little bit selfish of him to be happy about that, but that still doesn't stop him from feeling exactly that.

From being _glad_ this is something she didn't get her hands on and turned it into another thing Derek thinks he did wrong, another thing he blames on himself.

He still doesn't say that out loud, though, just settling for staring at the pictures.

Because he doesn't know if he'll have another opportunity to do this, if he'll ever come back here.

Stiles knows it took a lot of trust from Derek's part to share his history with Kate with him, that it wasn't something that came easy to him, without a thought.

But as much as they've talked about that, they haven't talked about how things are or _aren't_ between them.

And as comfortable as Stiles feels just standing here in silence with Derek, it kind of makes him nervous to not know where they stand.

Which is why he opens his mouth and says, "Derek?"

Right as Derek opens his and says, "But maybe you could."

And then as they both say at the exact same time, "What?"

"You first," Stiles says quickly, staring at Derek with eyes wide as he bites down on his bottom lip.

Because Derek said that _maybe he could_.

Which Stiles thinks means maybe he could_ have a picture on the wall_.

Someday.

With Derek.

Because he wants them to be _together_ enough to actually put up a picture.

In the wall.

With his _family_.

"I- You- Maybe," Derek stops, licking his lips as he stares back at Stiles with pure determination written on his face, as well as a little bit of wariness and hope and _fear_, like Stiles might not want whatever it is he has to say. "Someday, maybe you could. Be in a picture. With me. Here. If you- If that's something you still… want. With me."

Stiles opens his mouth to say that yes, oh my god, yes, but Derek runs ahead of him.

"I know we still have a lot to- to talk about. And I have a lot of things I don't- I'm- That I still have to deal with. But I'd like to have you. With me. During it," Derek tells him. "I have a lot of issues I don't- But I'm going to get help. I already- I have an appointment. With a therapist. So that I can- But I understand if- If you think it's too much. If you don't want to be with-"

"I don't," Stiles blurts out, and at the stricken look on Derek's face, he quickly amends. "I mean, I don't think it's too much. It's great that you're getting help. Fucking fantastic, actually. And of course I'll be there with you. For as long as you want me to. Because I do want to be with you. I mean, are you kidding me? All I ever want to do is _be with you_. All the time. This week when I wasn't with you? Not good. It was horrible and awful and terrible and I never want to go through it again. So yes. Yes. Yes, I want to be with you. And yes, maybe I could, one day, have a picture up there. With you."

Stiles doesn't realize Derek still has a hold of his shirt sleeve until he slides his hand down to thread their fingers together, thumb rubbing small circles against the back of Stiles' hand.

"Yeah?" Derek asks, as if needing more confirmation about the fact that Stiles wants him.

"Yeah," Stiles chokes out in relief, squeezing Derek's hand in his.

Derek' breath hitches as he leans into Stiles' personal space and drops his forehead against Stiles', their noses brushing.

This is the closest they've been to each other in an entire week, and Stiles is practically vibrating in place.

"I missed you, Bunny," Derek whispers against his lips, so fucking close but still not _close enough_.

"I missed you, baby."

And as Stiles slots their lips together, Derek's teeth biting down on his bottom lips as Stiles opens up and sucks Derek's tongue into his mouth, Stiles is really fucking happy he got Derek back.

* * *

**a/n: **stiles tells derek about the abuse kate probably suffered from her father and the abuse allison suffered from kate. it's a re-telling of the convo in chapter seven, so the same warnings apply: speculation from allison's part about the abuse kate suffered because she never knew her grandfather, and allison being subjected to degrading comments about the way she looked and acted.

and derek tells stiles about his relationship with kate: kate took advantage of derek when he was in a vulnerable state, playing with his grief over his father's death so she could get something she wanted. as their relationship progressed, the abuse started. it was mostly the same as it was with allison, with kate making comments about how much derek embarrassed her with the way he dressed or talked, objectifying him, and outright calling him stupid.

if you follow me on tumblr you know by now** i'm going to be writing a halloween chapter in the near future. i'm accepting costume ideas. to all characters. you can leave a comment or message me on tumblr (my url is dylansneck). please. and thank you.**


	10. Chapter 10

**a/n:** I'M STILL ACCEPTING HALLOWEEN COSTUME SUGGESTIONS! SO IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS THIS IS YOUR TIME TO SHINE ~

* * *

"How did it go?" Scott asks as he climbs in the Jeep's passenger seat and pulls the door close.

It's been two days since that night at the bar.

Stiles and Derek didn't really talk much after Stiles told Derek he still wanted to be with him, both of them too busy kissing and making up for a week's loss of physical contact to bother with words.

But they did have a conversation after Derek drove him home, Stiles telling him he should probably come up and pick up the bag of clothes he'd left there last Saturday.

The bag Stiles pointedly ignored all week as it sat by the foot of his bed, refusing to even move it somewhere else as to not be in his way.

Because that would mean acknowledging him and Derek weren't seeing each other, and that was something Stiles wasn't prepared to deal with.

Derek walked him up to his door, his hand clutching Stiles' tight, as if he still couldn't believe Stiles wasn't going anywhere.

He didn't come inside, though, and Stiles didn't ask him to, saying he'd be right back with his things.

It felt a lot less final than Stiles imagined it would feel, handing Derek the bag, their fingers brushing together as Derek took it from him and threw the strap over his shoulder, because now he knew this didn't mean Derek was leaving for good.

In fact, he wasn't going anywhere.

Derek didn't go back to his car right away, leaning against the door frame and opening and closing his mouth a few times, as if he needed to say something but didn't quite know how to yet.

Stiles let him take his time, but not before taking hold of one of Derek's hands and lacing their fingers together.

He knew he needed that point of contact, that after a week without it it was like he needed to make sure Derek was still there.

And by the way Derek looked down at their hands and his lips twitched up a bit, he agreed.

But that still didn't mean Derek wanted them to jump into this, into their relationship, into trying to go back to the way things were before.

Because things between them weren't the same.

The conversation they had changed something, and it'd do absolutely no good for them to pretend things weren't different.

That's what Derek told him, sounding a little bit unsure of how Stiles would take this, but determined about it being something they needed to do.

Not take some time off from each other, because they already did _that_ and it was a disaster, but just go into this slowly, not spending as much time in each other's company as they did before.

Stiles listened as Derek repeated some of the same things he said at the bar: he had some issues he had to work through, therapy being the first step to help him with that, and he'd like for Stiles to be there for him.

But this was something Derek needed to do by himself.

He appreciated and wanted the support, but he needed to know he could deal with this alone.

And Stiles understood.

This was a major change for Derek, and not an easy one at that, so it didn't surprise him at all to know Derek might think it'd be best if they tentatively found their way back to each other instead of just going for it.

He needs some time to come to terms with things, and Stiles will gladly give it to him.

Things feel different between them, but in a way that leaves Stiles thinking that everything is going to be okay.

Because Derek feeling comfortable enough to come out and tell him this and they both talking about it like adults instead of just assuming things about each other or being impulsive means they're evolving.

Their _relationship_ is evolving.

And that gives Stiles a really good feeling about their future together.

Derek sharing about Kate and Stiles assuring him he wasn't going anywhere went a long way in making Derek feel more relaxed and open about his own thoughts and opinions, and Stiles hopes that only improves as their relationship progresses and Derek gets help.

So he just gives Scott a small smile as he drives off and says, "It went fine."

"Fine?" Scott raises an eyebrow at him. "After all that angst, and you just tell me it went_ fine_?"

Stiles rolls his eyes, face sombering when he says, "He told me about- You know."

"Yeah?" Scott says lowly.

Stiles nods, "I think he had some time to think and figure some things out during the time we were- So I think it made it easier for him to tell me about what happened. Like, momentum, you know? Especially after I told him about Allison."

Scott stays quiet for a few seconds, staring straight ahead as Stiles drives them to work, before he says, "She wants to meet him, you know. Ally."

"She already knows him."

Scott gives him an unimpressed stare, "You know what I mean. She thinks it would be good if they- You know."

"Yeah," Stiles answers absentmindedly.

Because now that Scott mentioned it, he thinks it might.

Be good for Derek.

To know there's someone who _particularly_ understands what he went through.

He just doesn't know if Derek will agree.

And he doesn't think it's a good time to bring it up, at least not now.

Scott must sense what he's thinking, because he just shrugs one shoulder and says, "Just an idea."

Stiles nods, choosing to keep quiet.

The drive to the firehouse doesn't take long, both him and Scott climbing out of the car as soon as Stiles parks it and walking to their lockers so they can drop their things.

They find Danny, Jackson, and the rest of Jackson's company hanging around the rec room, and as soon as Danny sees him he gets up from his seat and stalks towards them.

"Good luck, dude," Scott clasps him on the shoulder, grinning, before he walks away.

Danny doesn't even bother saying anything before he grabs Stiles by the arm and drags him to their ambulance, opening the back door and pushing Stiles inside before climbing right after him and closing the door behind them.

Stiles sits on the stretcher while Danny flops down right in front of him, and they both stare at each other, unblinking.

Until Danny says, "It's later."

Stiles tries not to wince.

He knew this was coming.

Ever since he got Danny to distract Scott so he could sneak out from the parking lot, he knew he'd have to explain things to him.

He was only hoping he'd have more time.

And that by the time he decided to tell Danny about everything, Danny would have forgotten all of it.

But Stiles' luck doesn't work that way, which is why he shouldn't be surprised to find himself cornered in an ambulance while Danny has his arms crossed over his chest and a blank look on his face.

"Well?" Danny prompts.

Stiles lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair.

"Can I start this conversation by saying that I won't be able to tell you everything because some things are not my business to share?"

"Yes," Danny nods. "But I still want to know what happened, and I still want to know if things are okay."

Stiles fights the urge to smile at that.

Because if there's one thing they have learned by working together is that they need to have each other's backs.

And not just when they're out on a job.

That still doesn't make it any less complicated for Stiles to come up with something to say that doesn't fuck things up for Allison and possibly Derek and that is not a lie.

Because they have a No Lying Policy while they're in the ambulance.

And there's no way Stiles wants to be the one to break that.

"So?" Danny kicks him lightly in the shin when Stiles doesn't say anything.

"So," Stiles drawls out, trying to think of what to say.

"Stiles."

"Alright," Stiles sighs. "Alright. Well, Derek was in a really bad relationship when he lived in New York."

"How bad?" Danny immediately asks, and Stiles is reminded that, until Ethan, Danny didn't really have the best of luck when it came to picking out partners.

Meaning, most of them, if not all, were complete and utter assholes to him.

Still, as much as Stiles thinks Danny will understand, it's still not his place to spew out Derek's entire life story.

You know, again.

Especially without his permission.

So he just shakes his head and says, "Not my story to tell."

To which Danny's only response is his lips thinning and saying, "Really fucking bad."

Understatement.

But Stiles doesn't tell him that, either.

What he says is, "And it was with someone Allison used to know."

"Who?" Danny blinks, surprised, before frowning.

"Also not my story to tell."

"So what you're saying is," Danny says slowly. "You can't tell me anything?"

Stiles tilts his head to the side, "Basically," and then adds, "But I can tell you that I talked to Derek."

And _that_ gets Danny's attention away from that fucking mess.

"And?" he asks, looking expectant.

"We're good," Stiles says, not even trying to keep himself from smiling. "I mean, we talked. There are some things we still need to figure out, but we'll do it together. And we also agreed on taking things slow. For now."

Danny is full-blown grinning by the time Stiles finishes speaking, punching him lightly on the shoulder as he says, "Good for you."

"Yeah," Stiles nods, ducking his head as his smile widens and he feels his cheeks start to flush.

Just as Danny is opening his mouth to say something else, they hear some shouting coming from the outside.

Stiles rolls his eyes while Danny sighs, and in no time they're both getting out of the ambulance.

And just in time, really, to see Scott and Jackson running and elbowing each other out of the way to see who gets to the fire truck first.

"You'd think they would have given up by now," Danny comments as he watches Jackson try to trip Scott.

"My man never backs down from a fight," Stiles says proudly, smirking when Scott gets a hand over Jackson's head and messes up his hair.

Danny shakes his head, scrubbing a hand over his face, "You two are ridiculous."

"Says the one whose best friend is currently trying to punch mine in the _dick_."

Not that Jackson succeeds, with Scott veering out of the way.

Little does Jackson know, Scott's had a lot of practice avoiding things flying his way.

Like the lacrosse balls Stiles used to throw at him whenever they were practicing on his backyard.

"But unlike _you_," Danny points a finger at him. "I don't enable this."

"Please," Stiles huffs. "Like you're not in on Finstock's poll to see who wins."

Danny narrows his eyes, "Who told you?"

"Greenberg," Stiles shrugs one shoulder, and then smirks. "When I asked if I could join in."

Danny sighs and shakes his head, just in time for them to see Scott hip-checking Jackson out of the way and climbing into the truck, going as far as fist-bumping and whooping when he gets the door closed and locked behind him.

And smiles brightly at both Stiles and Danny when he drives past them and out of the station, sticking a hand out the window and waving when Stiles yells after him, "Give Mrs. Stuart's cat a belly rub for me!"

"How many does that make it?" Danny asks him as Scott disappears from view.

"I don't know," Stiles says, eyes looking around until he spots Jackson. "Hey, Jackson! What's your kitten rescue count?"

Jackson glowers, righting his clothes before he crosses his arms over his chest and mumbles something.

"What was that?" Stiles smiles sweetly at him, enjoying the way Jackson's face darkens even more.

"Eight," Jackson says through gritted teeth.

"So you've rescued eight kittens," Stiles nods. "To Scott's now number _thirteen_."

Jackson only glares harder.

"I still can't believe you two bet on who'd rescue more cats out of trees," Danny says, exasperated.

"Seriously?" Stiles turns to Danny. "You really can't? After the bet on who could resuscitate a dummy faster? And the one on who could get more free drinks if they wore their department shirts to bars? Or the one on who-"

"You've made your point," Danny waves a hand at him.

"You mean my point that Scott has won all of those bets and will definitely win _this_ one?" Stiles bats his lashes at them.

And almost has no time to step out of the way when Jackson launches himself at him.

And in his hurry to run the fuck away from Jackson and not get himself maimed or possibly dead, he misses Chief Finstock walking up to Danny and saying, "So the poll on how long it'll take Stilinski to say something to Jackson that'll get his ass kicked is still on?"

* * *

**From: Derek**

_Erica just dropped a wrench on a customer's foot after he made some quip about female mechanics not knowing what they're doing._

**From: Derek**

_She says it was an accident._

**From: Derek**

_And that she should know better than holding tools when her hands are covered in grease._

Stiles' lips curl up as he stares down at him phone, heart flipping in his chest as he reads Derek's messages, fridge door open and a carton of milk in his hand.

They haven't really spoken or seen each other in the three days since the bar, and Stiles is a little bit surprised to have Derek be the one to break the silence.

He fully intended on talking to him at some point tomorrow, just to make sure he, and they, are okay, but it's good to have Derek be the one to take that first step.

Especially when he was so hesitant to do so before.

**To: Derek**

_one day erica is going to end up killing one of your clients and i won't help you hide the body_

"What's got you so smiley?"

Stiles startles, almost dropping everything he's holding on the floor as he turns around.

"Oh," Stiles blinks. "Hey, Mrs. McCall."

He doesn't know why he's surprised, really.

He's had years to get used to the idea that sometimes Scott's mom spends the night at his dad's house, so as she takes the milk from his hand and gestures for him to take a seat he doesn't even think to protest before doing as he's told.

"So?" she raises an eyebrow at him when Stiles doesn't say anything. "It's not like you to be up and around this time in the morning," and when Stiles makes a face at her because he's almost _always_ up and around at this time, she adds, "At least not with a smile on your face."

True.

Stiles has to give her that.

He's still a lot more coherent in the mornings than Derek, though.

Or Scott.

Who once accidentally poured his coffee on top of his pancakes because he was too sleepy to realize the syrup was with Stiles.

So that has to count for something.

"Oh, you know," Stiles shrugs one shoulder, and before he can say anything else his phone buzzes with an incoming message.

**From: Derek**

_I think my mom has it covered._

Well, that isn't ominous _at all_.

**To: Derek**

_i don't know if you're joking or not but your mom looks scary enough that i think i kind of believe you_

Two seconds later, his phone chimes again.

**From: Derek**

_Don't worry. I'd never let her do anything to you._

Stiles has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep himself from breaking into a grin at how adorable, but still slightly creepy, Derek is.

So much so that he doesn't notice Mrs. McCall staring at him, now both eyebrows raised, as she goes on about making breakfast.

"You could have just told me the reason behind your good mood was because you were texting your boyfriend," Mrs. McCall says, smiling when Stiles fumbles with his phone and blushes.

"How did you know?"

"I've met Scott, you know," Mrs. McCall says fondly, shaking her head. "He had the same goofy grin and lovey-dovey eyes as you do whenever he spoke to Allison on the phone. Actually," she frowns. "He still does, most of the time."

Stiles mouths _lovey-dovey_, only to get hit in the face with a dishtowel.

He's not going to dwell on the meaning of Mrs. McCall's words, that apparently his love for Derek rivals Scott and Allison's Epic Romance, mostly because he's already had this conversation with Scott.

And his dad.

About the potential for him and Derek to be something _wonderful_ together.

It doesn't really freak him out as much as it did before, now that he's already come to terms with his feelings for Derek.

And that he loves him.

His new problem now is _when_ and _how_ to tell Derek that.

Stiles figures he should hold on to it, at least for a little while, and focus on helping Derek through getting better.

He doesn't think the added pressure of _feelings_ will do Derek much good at the moment, not now that he's trying to figure some things out by himself that'll definitely put him through a whirlwind of unwanted and mostly bad emotions.

"So I take it things are okay?"

"What's okay?"

Both Stiles and Mrs. McCall turn to see Stiles' dad entering the kitchen, running a hand over the top of Stiles' head before coming up behind Mrs. McCall and kissing her on the cheek.

Stiles wrinkles his nose.

Because as much as he likes Scott's mom, it's still gross to see his dad being affectionate with anyone.

"Good morning to you too, father of mine," Stiles bats his lashes at him, grinning when his dad just takes one look at him and rolls his eyes.

"I see you pawned off breakfast duty to Melissa," the Sheriff gives him an unimpressed look.

"I did not!" Stiles protests. "I was getting things for pancakes when she strolled in here and told me to sit down and shut up before I hurt myself."

His dad stares at him for a few seconds before he looks back at Mrs. McCall, "He was standing in front of the fridge with the door open and messing with his phone, wasn't he?"

Stiles gasps, all mock-offense, while Scott's mom just smiles at his dad and pats him on the chest before pointing to the empty chair beside Stiles.

"Sit. Breakfast will be ready…," she trails off, looking around her and taking in the absolute _zero_ progress she made since she took charge. "When it's ready."

Stiles tries to hide a laugh behind his hand, not that's he's successful when he lets out a snort, only to have his dad swat him on the back of his head as he sits down.

And then ask him, "Things are okay between you and Derek, then?"

Stiles gapes at his dad.

And then snaps his mouth back shut because this is his _dad_ and he's the _Sheriff_ and if there's one person in Beacon Hills who could find out everything about everyone that person is most certainly him.

And maybe Derek's uncle, if Stiles is to believe what Derek says about him.

And Stiles had actually called his dad before he drove up to Derek's on Saturday, just to make sure he knew where Stiles was.

You know, in case Derek's family decided to make good on their threats about Stiles ever hurting Derek and his dad needed a place to start looking for his body when he suddenly disappeared without a trace.

But they haven't actually spoken about what came from that conversation, so it's no wonder his dad is bringing it up now that he has Stiles in front of him.

In case things _aren't_ okay and Stiles needs the support.

Stiles has the best dad in the world and no one will ever convince him otherwise.

"Yes," Stiles says. "We- uh- We spoke about some things."

The Sheriff nods, and Stiles knows he gets that some things actually mean _Derek's past abusive relationship_.

"And Derek," Stiles keeps going. "He said he has some stuff he needs to figure out, so he thinks it's best if we take things a little bit slower. But we're okay."

"That's good," his dad smiles at him, clasping him on the shoulder. "I'm happy for you, son."

Stiles grins back at his dad, who is now staring at Mrs. McCall, the smile he had aimed at Stiles turning into a smirk.

That she returns with one of her own.

And Stiles has had way too many years of experience in having his dad and Mrs. McCall gang up on him and Scott to make their lives _miserable_ to know that this means absolutely nothing good for him.

So he really shouldn't be surprised when they both turn back to stare at him, eyes glinting and smiling wickedly.

But what he certainly wasn't expecting was for the words coming out of his dad's mouth to be, "So does this mean we should be expecting Derek for dinner soon?"

**To: Derek**

_i wish i could promise the same from my dad_

* * *

**From: Derek**

_Uncle Peter just texted me a picture of his new bike. It's black and beautiful and I think I hate him a little bit._

**From: Derek**

_Cora left one of her red shirts in the washer and now Isaac's walking around with pink shirts on._

**From: Derek**

_And socks._

**From: Derek**

_And underwear, too._

* * *

"You look happy today."

Stiles blinks raising an eyebrow at Danny.

"As opposed to when I don't look happy every other day?"

Danny rolls his eyes, shrugging one shoulder. "You're just particularly smiley this evening. It's starting to freak the patients out."

"You mean it's starting to freak _you_ out."

"I don't know if you know this but you kind of look like the Grinch when you're smiling this wide."

"Oh my _god_," Stiles groans. "You are the _worst person_. I don't know why anyone thinks you're this gorgeous and sweet Hawaiian dimpled prince when you're so obviously _not_."

"Hawaiian dimpled prince?" Danny says flatly. "Gorgeous and sweet?"

"Words directly from the mouth of Beacon Hills' elderly citizen, Mrs. Thomas," Stiles tells him, wiggling his eyebrows.

And then bursting out laughing at the horrified look Danny gives him.

"Seriously, though," Danny says, and Stiles can tell he's changing the subject so he won't have to think about how much old ladies seem to like him. "It's been a while since I've seen you like this. Did something happen?"

"As a matter of fact, something did," Stiles says, not even trying to keep himself from grinning like an absolute idiot. "Derek and I are going on a date tonight."

A date that Stiles is _really_ looking forward to it.

Because, as it turns out, taking things slowly kind of makes him feel like he and Derek are at the beginning of their relationship, where everything is new and exciting and gives Stiles butterflies and puts the biggest smile on his lips.

In a way, Stiles guesses this _is_ somewhat the beginning of a new relationship between them, with all the changes Derek's going through right now and is going to go through later now that he's come to the realization that Kate is screwed up and he needs help.

And like Derek told him, things between them are different and it makes no sense for them to pretend otherwise, so Stiles is looking at this like the end of a chapter and the beginning of a much better one in their lives.

Especially when he got up this morning only to see he had a new text from Derek.

**From: Derek**

_Are you free tonight?_

Ever since they started seeing each other Stiles has made a habit of having all of his Friday nights free.

They'd usually do something together and then Derek would stay over, but Stiles doesn't think this is what he has in mind right now.

Although they kept texting each other all week, they haven't really seen each other since Saturday, so it is pretty unlikely Derek will want to go from _that_ to them sharing a bed.

Since they are, you know,_ taking things slow_.

**To: Derek**

_yep! what do you have in mind?_

It's kind of a pretty big deal for Derek to be the one making the move, and Stiles hopes that means he's still feeling comfortable in what he has with Stiles to start voicing his opinions and wishes without being afraid of doing or saying something wrong.

Stiles has no illusions that at any moment things might not be that way anymore, though.

He knows Derek learning how to deal with and overcome trauma will not happen from day to night just because they both want to, and that this is something that'll take him a really long time to come to terms with.

It won't be easy, and sometimes it might make Derek feel like he's right where he began, but it'll be worth it.

That's not to say Stiles will let Derek shoulder their relationship.

He'll be there for him, just like he always said he would, for as long as Derek wants him.

**From: Derek**

_I thought we could go see a movie._

**To: Derek**

_are you going to complain about my snack choices again?_

**From: Derek**

_Yes._

Stiles snorts, lips forming a smile as his phone buzzes again.

**From: Derek**

_I'll pick you up at 8._

"Yeah?" Danny grins at him, dimples showing. "So when I start having nightmares about you trying to kill me while smiling so wide it looks like your face is going to crack, I should thank Derek, then?"

"Yes," Stiles sniffs. "You should."

Danny snorts, "At least you're going to have a nice night."

Stiles frowns at him, "That means you think you won't. Did something happen? Was it Ethan? Do Jackson and I have to go fuck his shit up?"

Danny shakes his head at him, giving him a dim smile.

"Ethan's twin is in town," Danny says. "His name is Aiden. Ethan wants us to meet, so we're having dinner tonight at his place."

Stiles blinks at him, confused.

"What's bad about that? Are you worried Aiden's not going to like you? Because everyone loves you, Danny. Even when you're being an asshole and taking pictures of your friends while they're drunk and trying to make out with a pole. Some would say _especially_ when you're doing that."

Stiles is part of that some.

You know, considering the friend is actually Scott and Danny's pictures gave Stiles the best blackmail material.

"It's not that," Danny says, voice low. "It's just- By the way Ethan sometimes speaks of him, I don't think he's that good of a person."

And it figures.

The minute Danny finds someone who's nice and loves him and fits in well with all of his friends, the guy has an asshole brother.

A _twin_ brother, at that.

Stiles sombers, lips pressing thin, "Do I need to talk to my dad?"

Danny's shoulders slump as he brings a hand up to run through his hair, "I don't think so. What I got from Ethan is that he's more of a dick than a criminal."

"Which means he's a bit of a criminal," Stiles narrows his eyes.

Danny looks helplessly at him.

"Don't worry, Danny boy," Stiles says, patting him on the shoulder. "I'll mention it to my dad, but say it's probably nothing we should worry about. You should also talk to Jackson about this."

"You're telling me to talk to Jackson," Danny raises an eyebrow at him.

Stiles shrugs, "He's your best friend. I think he should know. And I also think he'll want in if we have to do some ass-kicking."

Danny sighs, looking skyward.

"I have no idea what I did to have such friends."

"You were a _saint_," Stiles tells him. "Because we're clearly _angels_ sent from the heavens to grace you with our company and incredible good looks."

"_No idea_," Danny mutters under his breath, but Stiles can tell he's feeling a lot better about all of this then he was before.

"But seriously," Stiles says, looking at him. "We've got your back. No matter what. And Ethan's, too."

Danny nods at him, lips twitching up in a smile as he bumps their shoulders together.

"Thanks."

"That's what friends are for."

The rest of their shifts passes by in a blur of playing cards in the kitchen, making fun of whoever's gonna have to take pictures for next year's Firefighter Calendar, them getting called to take a kid who got stabbed in the thigh with a pair of scissors to the hospital, and Stiles getting more and more anxious the closer it gets to end of the day.

Danny doesn't call him on it, though, missing a chance to make Stiles' life absolute hell, but that's only because he's nervous about meeting Ethan's brother.

Especially after he talks to Jackson, just like Stiles suggested, only to have him scowl and get that glint in his eyes that means he's about to do something incredibly stupid or incredibly sweet.

Scott is the one who manages to keep them from crawling out of their skins, offering hugs and goofy grins and getting them to help him come up with something to do for his and Allison's anniversary.

Danny tells him he should find her someone with a complicated medical condition so she can operate and be a badass and save lives.

Jackson tells him he should find her someone with a complicated medical condition so she can operate and be a badass and save lives. And then they can have life-assuring or reassuring sex in one of the on-call rooms.

Stiles tells him he should find her someone with a complicated medical condition so she can operate and be a badass and save lives. And then they can have life-assuring or reassuring sex in one of the on-call rooms. And then take her to a romantic dinner at the hospital's cafeteria.

Scott makes a face and tells them they suck.

Stiles hugs them all goodbye when he clocks out - yes, even Jackson, going as far as kissing him soundly on the cheek before Jackson can react and push him away -, making sure to squeeze Danny extra hard.

"You'll be fine," Stiles tells him. "And if not, call me."

"Same to you," Danny nods. "And I hope you guys have a good time tonight."

To which Stiles winks at him, grinning wildly as he says, "We will."

* * *

As it turns out, getting dressed for their first date after the fight is just as nerve-wrecking as dressing for their official first date had been.

Only this time Stiles doesn't have the help of Allison and Scott's moral support, with Allison being at work and Scott having promised his mom he would take some time to fix things that needed fixing in her house.

And, you know, panic attacks aside.

At least for now.

Not that he thinks he'll have one, as he laces his shoes and gets up to grab a jacket to throw over his light blue button down.

Because Derek's going to be there any minute now, and if Stiles hasn't freaked out yet, then he probably won't anymore.

He stares at himself in the mirror one last time to make sure his hair is passable, and he can't help but smile at his reflection as he takes in the slight flush on his his cheeks from excitement.

It makes him look good.

Actually, scratch that.

It makes him look really fucking _hot_.

Which is exactly when his phone beeps in his pocket, signaling a new text message.

**From: Derek**

_I'm here._

Stiles grins as he grabs his wallet and keys and goes out, heart racing in his chest when he gets to the front of his building and sees that not only Derek is there, but he's there in his _bike_.

And if there's one thing Stiles missed the fuck out of, that thing was riding on a bike with Derek.

You know, _behind him_.

Pressed up against him and with Stiles' arms around his waist and the wind and Derek's pine needle scent in his nose.

"Hey," Stiles says as he gets closer.

Only to stop short of Derek, suddenly feeling a little unsure of himself.

Because he doesn't know if taking things slow means it's not okay for Stiles to kiss him.

Not that he has to dwell on that for long, with Derek wrapping his fingers around Stiles' wrist and tugging him forward, pecking him lightly on the lips before pulling back and saying, "Hi."

Well, that settles it.

"So where are you taking me?" Stiles asks, rocking back on his heels as he laces their fingers together and gives Derek's hand a squeeze.

"To the movies, like I told you," Derek rolls his eyes, but Stiles can tell by the curl in his lips that he's amused. "And maybe to eat something, if you don't have your fill with that disgusting thing you deem worthy of being called a _movie snack_."

"You'll never make me give up on my love for buttery popcorn," Stiles bats his lashes at him, laughing when Derek sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Stiles is a little surprised by how easy this is, being with Derek again.

He doesn't really know if he expected things to be a little stiff and awkward after what happened, but he's glad that's not the case.

He's glad they're still _them_.

"C'mon," Derek says, sliding his hand out of Stiles' grip and handing him a helmet. "Hop on."

"Yes, sir," Stiles says, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek.

He can see Derek's small smile as he puts the helmet on, matching the one he has as he swing a leg over and straddles the bike, arms coming around Derek's waist and holding on tight.

Riding feels just as good as it did before, if not better, since Stiles has missed it so much.

Derek takes his hand as they walk into the theater, still complaining about Stiles' food choices, even though he's the one that pays for it.

Along with drinks for both of them and gummi bears for himself.

Stiles doesn't really pay attention to what's showing, too busy basking in the wonderfulness that is cuddling up to Derek in a dark movie theater.

About fifteen minutes into the movie Derek got his arm around the back of Stiles' seat, leaving all the space Stiles could ever want to slide down a little and settle flush by his side.

They don't kiss, though, and Stiles doesn't mind.

He likes this, just spending time with Derek, sharing the same space while they do something together.

Especially when Derek takes him to get pizza afterwards, sitting down in front of Stiles when the hostess directs them to a booth, and bumping their feet together.

At first Stiles thinks it's an accident, like Derek was moving and accidentally hit him.

The second time gets Stiles suspicious, but given that it happened when Derek was leaning forward to grab a slice of pizza, he lets it pass.

The third time, though, he can't ignore.

Mostly because he can feel Derek's foot sliding up his pants leg and-

"_Derek Hale_," Stiles says, raising an eyebrow at him. "Are you trying to play footsie with me?"

Stiles has to say he particularly enjoys the way Derek freezes with his soda halfway up his mouth, eyes going wide and ears turning red as he stares at Stiles and tries to act like he has no idea what the fuck Stiles is talking about.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, really?" Stiles licks his lips slowly. "So you weren't trying to do this," Stiles bumps their feet together lightly, "Or this," and rubs his ankle against Derek's, "Or _this_," and then slowly slides his foot up and down Derek's caf.

The blush on Derek's ears runs down to his cheeks and neck, and it takes him a couple of tries for him to say, "No," even though it comes out sounding more like groan than anything else.

Stiles grins.

And drops his feet and leans back, grabbing his own drink and taking a sip before saying, "My bad, then."

Derek ducks his head, own lips forming a faint smile as he looks up at Stiles from under his lashes and says, "I don't know why I like you."

Stiles' only response to that is to blow him a kiss.

And stuff his face with more pizza.

And later, when Derek parks in front of his building and walks Stiles to the entry, to cup Derek's face between his hands and kiss him slowly and sweetly before letting him go.

* * *

**To: Derek**

_chief finstock caught greenberg trying to eat the sandwich he left in the fridge for lunch and now greenberg is in bathroom cleaning duty for the entire week and i love my life xoxo_

**To: Derek**

_DID I TELL YOU SCOTTS WINNING THE KITTEN RESCUE BET BECAUSE HE IS AND JACKSON IS SULKING AND THE WORLD IS A WONDERFUL PLACE_

**To: Derek**

_i found a spider in my bathroom today._

**To: Derek**

_i had to call my dad to come kill it for me so i could shower._

**To: Derek**

_he brought mrs. mccall along._

**To: Derek**

_she laughed at me the entire time they were here._

**To: Derek**

_derek why is life so hard :((_

* * *

"I don't think I ever told you this," Derek says as he sees him, hands deep in his pockets. "But you look good in that."

_That_ being the leather jacket Allison found in his closet the night of his and Derek's first date that he has _no idea_ where the fuck it came from.

It's been his go-to jacket whenever he has to go out at night these days, with the weather being a little chillier than before.

You know, since it's fall and all.

And he's gotta say, he kind of agrees with Derek.

Whenever he looks at himself and sees how the leather sits on his shoulders, the contrast of it against his pale skin, he thinks he looks pretty fucking good. So to know that his boyfriend approves is only another good thing to add to the list.

"I look good in anything, thank you very much," Stiles tells him, smiling against Derek's mouth when he leans in to kiss him.

"I don't know why I even try to compliment you anymore," Derek mutters, breath ghosting over Stiles' lips.

"'S cos I'm awesome, boo," Stiles says, ignoring Derek's snort as he rubs their noses together before stepping back.

"You call me boo again and I'll leave you here."

Stiles huffs, "You know riding around town is only fun when I'm with you."

"I don't know. I kind of miss the days where I could go out without someone behind me calling me dumb names all night."

"You like my dumb names," Stiles sticks his tongue out at him. "And just be glad I don't call you something worse. Like _schnookums_. Or _cuddle muffin_. Or _huggy bear_. Or-"

Stiles gets cut off by Derek's palm covering his mouth, which he instantly darts his tongue out to lick.

Derek doesn't flinch.

He just stares at him with serious and intense eyes and says, "I'll let you call me boo if you never think of calling me cuddle muffin or," Derek makes a face. "Or huggy bear. Ever again."

Stiles smiles in glee at having Derek say both the words _cuddle muffin_ and _huggy bear_, even though Derek can't see it, but nods.

That's a sacrifice he's willing to make.

Derek gives him a long look before he drops his hand, nodding at Stiles once and saying, "Good."

"Can we go see the pretty lights now?" Stiles asks him, licking his lips.

Derek sighs, long-suffering, but says, "Yes."

And Stiles really can't resist but stealing a kiss before hopping on the bike.

The pretty lights are actually Derek driving them around the highest spots in Beacon Hills, where they can look down at the town and see all the houses and buildings alight.

It's one of Stiles' favorite things to do, taking in all the little spots of light and thinking about how they all represent a family, a person, or a group of people, all leading different lives then he is, all with different problems and thoughts and feelings.

It sometimes made him feel lonely, doing this, which is one of the reasons why he brought Derek along one night.

Because Derek also seemed lonely, and Stiles thought that, maybe, they could feel alone together.

They lean against the bike to stare down at the town, their shoulders brushing, Stiles' hands in his pockets while Derek crosses his arms in front of his chest.

They don't speak, not here.

Here they just let themselves be, let themselves get lost in a sea of lights and the warmth of someone's body next to theirs.

And when they get ready to leave and Derek gets a hand on the back of his neck and pulls him forward, slotting their lips together as he licks his way into Stiles' mouth, Stiles finds himself not feeling so lonely anymore.

* * *

**From: Derek**

_Isaac found a box of kittens in front of the garage this morning._

**From: Derek**

_I don't know who left them there in the cold with no water and food instead of taking them to the vets but I hope they break something._

**From: Derek**

_Laura got her heel stuck between the floor wooden planks in the attic and fell face down on Erica's chest._

**From: Derek**

_Cora filmed the whole thing._

**From: Derek**

_Isaac and Cora adopted a kitten._

**From: Derek**

_Who they brought to live in my loft._

**From: Derek**

_And who likes to sleep in my bed when I'm not on it and on my face when I am._

**From: Derek**

_They named him Lucifer._

* * *

It's the middle of October and Stiles is at the end of his shift, halfway across the parking lot to his car, keys jingling in his hand when his phone buzzes in his jacket's pocket.

He doesn't really stop to look at it, not right away, settling for opening the Jeep's door and throwing his backpack in the back seat before climbing inside.

When he does stick a hand in his jeans and grabs his phone, it's to have his heart speed up as he reads the message he just received.

**From: Derek**

_I have my first therapy session in a few minutes._

Stiles blinks down at the screen, eyes going a little wide as he rereads the message a couple more times.

He figured it'd take Derek a little longer before he started feeling secure enough in his decision to get help for him to start looking for doctors, and then a few more for him to actually start seeing someone, but apparently he was wrong.

It actually makes him happy to see Derek determined to work through his issues, knowing he's finally realized that his relationship with Kate wasn't a good one, that she wasn't a good person, that what she did was wrong.

But Stiles knows that starting therapy can make someone rather anxious, you know, about the prospect of telling a stranger about everything you think is wrong with you, so he doesn't even think twice before calling Derek's number instead of replying to his text.

Derek answers on the second ring, voice low as he says, "Hey."

"Hey," Stiles says, fingers drumming against his steering wheel. "You nervous?"

Derek doesn't answer him right away, Stiles hearing the creaking of leather as Derek moves.

"A little," Derek says in a tone that tells Stiles not only is he nervous, but he's also uncomfortable as fuck. "For some reason they're playing a succession of indie rock bands in the background."

Stiles laughs at that, taking the change of subject, "You singing along?"

"Stiles," Derek breathes out, sounding all kinds of fond.

He doesn't deny it, though, which gives Stiles the best mental image of Derek frowning and trying to pretend he's not muttering the lyrics while tapping his foot to the rhythm of whatever song is playing.

"I remember the classical music I had to listen to," Stiles tells him. "Especially because every time the session was over and I went to look for my dad, I'd find him asleep in one of the waiting room sofas."

"You went to therapy?" Derek asks, sounding surprised.

Stiles opens and closes his mouth, forgetting Derek doesn't really know everything there is to know about him.

He forgets it, sometimes, because of the way it feels like Derek's been in his life forever.

So he swallows hard before saying quietly, "After my mom died I started having panic attacks. I tried hiding them from my dad because I didn't want him to worry about me, but one day at school someone said something that reminded me of her and I just- They had to call him to come pick me up. Two weeks later he was taking me to see someone."

"How old were you?"

"Around nine," Stiles mutters, hearing Derek's intake of breath.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Derek says, tone filled with understanding of what is like to lose a parent.

Stiles makes a little noise at the back of his throat, because there's really nothing he can say to that.

"Dad always made sure Scott was around after my sessions," Stiles tells him. "He'd drop me off at his house or Mrs. McCall would bring him over, and we'd spend the rest of the day together, running around and playing video games and daring each other to do dumb kid stuff. It took my mind off things."

"Scott's a good friend," Derek says.

To which Stiles snorts and dutifully corrects him, "Scott is the _best_ friend."

Derek lets out a small laugh, Stiles smiling down at his lap as he tries to soak up the sounds of Derek's laughter.

He hasn't heard it much, and he hopes that with Derek getting help, he'll hear it more often.

"I'll have to hang up soon," Derek says, sounding regretful.

"I know," Stiles says, and then adds, "You'll be fine."

Derek sighs, deep and heavy, "Yeah," and Stiles can hear him gulping before saying, "I hope so."

"You will. And you can call me later if you need someone to talk to, alright?"

"I don't know if-," Derek starts, clearing his throat. "I don't know if I'll be the best company. Afterwards. Or if I'll be able to talk about it. But- I- Thank you. For offering."

"Hey," Stiles says softly. "I'll always listen, okay? If you want to talk about it, or if you don't and want to talk about something else, you can always come to me. I won't ask you questions about what happened inside, because that's between you and your doctor, so don't feel like you owe me some kind of explanation. Because you don't. But if you want to share it with me, you can do it in your own time, and I'll be here."

Stiles lets that statement hang between them, listening to the faint sounds of Derek breathing through the phone.

"Thank you," Derek says, tone heavy. "Thanks. I don't know if- I don't know if I'll be able- Or if I'll want to talk after- So if I don't call you today then-"

"We'll talk tomorrow," Stiles finishes for him. "Or the day after tomorrow. We don't need to talk tonight if you're not up for it. Or if you need more time, just text me and let me know. I'll stay away for a bit."

"You won't mind?" Derek asks, and Stiles can hear the surprised in his voice.

"If you let me know about it, I won't," Stiles tells him honestly. "You told me you needed to do this by yourself, and I'm going to respect that. If you need time, I'll give it to you. My problem is when you shut me out and push me away, not when you talk to me about the things you want or need. So as long as we communicate, we're gonna be fine."

There's only silence coming from Derek's end, and then the voice of someone calling his name.

"I have to go," Derek says, and Stiles can hear the shuffle of fabric of him getting up. "I'll talk- I'll let you know. If I need- I'll let you know."

"Okay," Stiles says, and then adds, "Good luck, baby."

"Thanks, Bunny."

Derek ends the call, and Stiles is left with the feeling like something important just happened, like something was settled, resolved.

He pockets his phone, turns on the ignition, and drives off the parking lot and back to his apartment.

And if he hums along with the radio all the way home, a small smile on his lips, what can he do?

* * *

"You okay?"

Stiles looks up at Allison as she hands him a beer and flops down on the couch beside him, propping her feet on top of his coffee table.

He brings his bottle up to take a sip, staring down at his phone and the new text he just got from Derek.

**From: Derek**

_One more day._

It's Sunday night and this is the first contact they've had in the two days since Derek and Stiles' call about his first therapy session, and Stiles doesn't know whether to feel relieved Derek listened to what he had to say about them communicating and Derek not pushing Stiles away or to be worried because Derek still needs time to deal with whatever was said during his consultation.

He still replies with a _okay we'll talk tomorrow then_, though, because as curious as he is about what made Derek feel like he needs time to regroup he told Derek he wouldn't ask him anything about what happened.

But that still doesn't stop him from picking at the label of his beer and saying, "I'm worried about Derek."

He sees Allison taking her feet off the table from the corner of his eye, hears the clinking of glass and wood as she places her glass of water on top of it and the shuffle of fabric as she turns on her side to look at him.

And feels the sharp jab of her finger connecting with his side as she pokes him and says, "Spill."

Stiles figures if there's one person he should talk to about this, that's Allison.

They've talked a little about what went on between Derek and Kate, with Allison having heard from Scott about Stiles going to see him.

It was mostly Stiles telling her that apparently Kate made no mention of having a brother or a niece when she was with Derek, and that the abuse she suffered was similar to Derek's.

So Allison probably gets it, better than anyone, what might be going through Derek's head right now.

"He- uhm," Stiles clears his throat, not knowing if it's okay for him to share this but doing it anyway because it's not like he's going to pretend he doesn't want to talk about this. "He started therapy on Friday. I told him if he needed some time, he should just let me know. And he- He let me know. He just texted me saying he needs one more day to- Well, you know. And I'm worried. About what might have made him need that time."

"Oh," Allison purses her lips together.

"Oh?" Stiles looks at her, eyebrows raised.

Because that _oh_ totally means she has inside knowledge about what might be going on.

And there goes Stiles feeling guilty for taking advantage of that to stop himself from worrying.

Allison looks at him for a few beats, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she thinks, while Stiles takes another sip of his beer.

"You know that sometimes what you say when you're in a consultation sticks with you even after it's over, right?"

Stiles nods, because he does know that.

"Sometimes it takes you a little bit more time to shake that off," Allison keeps going, her voice low. "With me, sometimes it took me right back to where I was before."

Stiles turns to her at that, swallowing as he starts to figure out where this is going and why Derek might need some time away after all.

And kind of feeling like an asshole for not having thought of that before Allison, who's pretty sensitive to this subject, brings to his attention.

"I felt like I had screwed up again," Allison tells him. "By not being strong enough to brush that off. I got trapped in that mind set Kate put me on, and it was like I was right back there with her looking over my shoulder and listing everything that was wrong with me."

Stiles lets out a deep sigh, scrubbing his face with a hand.

Yep, total asshole.

He remembers enough from his own therapy days that on some days when he had to talk about his buried guilt over his mom's death, especially when the doctor tried to tell him it wasn't his fault, it'd only make him feel even worse about it all.

So it's no wonder Derek might feel the same when forced to talk about his relationship with Kate.

And the fact that he actually _texted_ Stiles to let him know he'd need more time means a lot more than Stiles realized it did.

There's a lot of self-doubt and misplaced guilt and shame that resurfaces when telling someone about what happened, and that can mess up with the rest of your life if you still don't really know how to handle it," Allison continues, placing a hand on his arm. "It's good that you told him he could take the time he needed to settle his head, so that way he knows he doesn't have to feel guilty about not talking to you or feel like he did something wrong."

Stiles' shoulders slump as he lets his head fall back against the back of the couch, placing a hand on top of Allison's and giving it a squeeze when she threads their fingers together.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it?"

"Nope," Allison shakes her head, shrugging one shoulder. "But you already knew that."

Stiles doesn't have anything to say to that, because he did know.

And not only that, but he _embraced it_.

"You'll be okay," Allison smiles sweetly at him. "Both of you."

"You think so?"

Allison nods, "I know so. I also know I'm hungry and you promised to feed me."

Stiles snorts, feeling a little bit better and less worried about this whole thing now that he's spoken to her.

He still feels like a dick, though, but that's nothing new.

"What do you want from dinner?"

As it turns out, what Allison wants is sushi, which Stiles happily agrees with, grabbing his phone and placing their order.

"Now, moving on to lighter topics," Allison says as they wait for their food, getting a glint in her eyes that tells Stiles something good is about to go down.

"And by that, you mean gossip," Stiles corrects her, snickering when Allison kicks him in the thigh.

"Did I tell you about couples yoga?" Allison wiggles her eyebrows at him, biting down on her bottom lip.

Stiles wrinkles his nose at her, "I don't want to know about what kind of kinky foreplay you and Scott engage in with the help of spandex and stretching, thank you very much."

"_Stiles_," Allison gasps, all mock offense, going as far as clutching at her imaginary pearls. And then grinning wickedly at him as she says, "Then I guess you don't want to see the pictures I have of Scott helping Jackson stretch? Or of them doing some poses? Or of-"

"_What_."

Stiles thinks his brain might have broken.

Because there's no way Allison just told him she has pictures of Scott and Jackson doing yoga _together_.

He must have misheard her.

Really.

There's no other possibility than the fact that Stiles is having some pretty realistic hallucinations in the form of Allison telling him his best friend and _Jackson_ were doing _yoga_.

_Together_.

"What," Stiles says again, blinking at her.

And gaping like a fish.

And not even managing to make the word sound like a question.

Because Scott and Jackson and _couples yoga_.

Allison just nods at him, grabbing her phone, "Remember when Ethan told us about the yoga classes he teaches for couples?"

Stiles vaguely remembers something about that, that night at Danny's, while Derek and Lydia talked about Derek maybe wanting to look for another place to live.

"Kind of."

"Well," Allison says, eyes on her phone as she looks for something. "I told him I'd be interested in maybe taking a couple of classes, and he said all I had to do was call whenever Scott and I wanted to come in and he'd pencil us in."

"Then what does Jackson-"

"When I called," Allison talks over him, lips twitching up. "Lydia was with me. She asked me to tell Ethan she and Jackson would also be making an appearance somewhere near the future."

Stiles still can't grasp the concept of Jackson doing couples yoga, although he should know Lydia is capable of making him do anything she wants to.

Or that she's capable of making anyone do anything she wants to, really.

Fighting her is useless.

Stiles knows by now he should just give in and hope for the best.

And apparently Jackson does, too.

"So when we got to our class," Allison keeps going, phone clutched in her hand. "Ethan started talking about how couples yoga serves to strengthen people's relationships because of the trust you have to put in someone not to drop you on your ass. And that it forces people to talk about things and learn stuff about each other while they're doing it."

Stiles purses his lips together, wondering if that's something Derek would be interested in.

"And then when he told us to grab our partners and choose a mat," Allison tells him, dimples showing. "Scott and Jackson came to ask me and Lydia if would we mind doing stuff together while _they_ partner up."

"I- They- _What_," Stiles sputters, staring at Allison with wide eyes.

He assumed the reason why Jackson and Scott had to do things together was because the girls decided they wanted to be partners, and not the other way around.

Because Stiles has seen Scott and Jackson fighting whenever they had to work together since, well, since _ever_.

Nothing they've ever done with each other has happened without them previously fighting like hell about it, so the fact that they were the ones who took the initiative to do this kind of blows Stiles' mind.

And gives him so much blackmail material.

And also a sense of betrayal for finding out about this through Allison and not his _best friend in the fucking world_.

"Yep," Allison smiles sweetly. "They told us they think using that time to work on their differences will help them in the long run while they're at work, so they'd like to give it a try. It was pretty cute, actually. Even Lydia thought so."

_And Lydia doesn't think anything's cute_ is what Allison doesn't say, but Stiles knows it's implied.

He also knows that sometimes Scott and Jackson's difference in opinion gets in the way of how they do things at the firehouse, so having them willingly work on that without having Finstock breathing down their necks and yelling at them to get their shit together or threatening to demote them from their current positions is actually a pretty big deal.

So much of a big deal that Stiles doesn't think he'll be able to make fun of them for it without feeling like the worst human being in the fucking planet.

Because if they kept it a secret from him and Danny, then it's because they're serious about doing this and working things out, and having Stiles or anyone else mock them for it will only put them back right where they started.

Fighting each other every step along the way.

"Damn Scott and his heart of gold," Stiles mutters, making Allison laugh. "I can't even make fun of them for this."

"Not to their faces, at least," Allison says, waving her phone in front of Stiles' face.

Stiles' eyes follow the movement before he plucks the phone out of Allison's grasp, "You're a horrible horrible influence."

"You _love_ me," Allison sing-songs, grinning when Stiles scowls at her and looks down at the first picture.

That has both Scott and Jackson sitting on top of a blue yoga mat, facing each other, and _holding hands_.

"I hate you so much for this," Stiles hisses, because this is gold and the source of so many good jokes that Stiles _won't be able to make_.

Because even though he's an asshole, he's not that much of one.

He can recognize something good when he sees it, and Jackson and Scott doing couples yoga is just that.

Because they're making an effort, and Stiles would never take that away from them.

He flicks his thumb through the screen, pressing his lips together as his eyes rake over pictures of Scott and Jackson doing a variation of yoga poses, Jackson's face twisted in concentration, Scott's dopey smile when they manage to get something right.

Allison offers a stream of comments for every photo, telling Stiles how they both kept screwing up the poses at the beginning, the two of them too busy being nasty to each other to try and work together.

But that as the class progressed, with Ethan stopping by a few times and talking to them, they started getting better, started communicating and trusting each other, and then wiped the floor with everyone by maintaining the best form during the last poses Ethan had them do at the end of the class.

"Ethan looked kind of impressed," Allison says, resting her cheek on Stiles' shoulder as he goes through that last couple of pictures again. "He actually used them as an example to show everyone that by talking to and trusting each other we can overcome the most difficult situations."

Stiles blinks at the screen in front of him, thinking that Allison is trying to make a point.

Like, let's say, Stiles and Derek talking about things will help them along the way with Derek wanting to work on getting better.

So he narrows his eyes and says, "You're trying to make a point, aren't you?"

"I don't know," Allison lifts her head up to stare at him with wide innocent eyes that _do not fool him_. "Am I?"

"I stand corrected," Stiles tells her. "You are a horrible person and I hate you."

Allison sticks out her tongue at him, taking her phone from Stiles' hand and placing it on the coffee table.

"Why did you show me that?" Stiles asks her. "Because it's not like I'm a terrible person enough to use the fact that Scott and Jackson do _couples yoga_ against my _best friend_ and Jackson, when he's clearly doing this to be, you know, a better person. Which is something he really needs to work on, to be honest."

"I thought you'd appreciate it," Allison says, in a way that clearly means she_ is_ trying to make a point.

That maybe Stiles should take Derek to couples yoga so they can work on their many issues and strengthen their relationship and trust on each other.

All the while working on their flexibility.

Or that maybe they should keep doing what they're doing and talk about things they want, need, or feel.

He's saved from having to give her an answer by the arrival of their food, Allison helping him set everything on his coffee table and grabbing two couch cushions to place on the floor so they can seat and eat.

"You have no idea how much I've missed this," Allison practically moans as she eyes the food in front of them, as if not knowing where to start.

"You mean hanging out with the awesomeness that is Stiles Stilinski?" Stiles bats his lashes at her, grinning.

Sure," Allison says slowly, patting him on the cheek.

"You wound me," Stiles pouts, snorting when Allison just rolls her eyes at him.

"You know I practically don't eat this stuff anymore," Allison says, gesturing to all the food. "Not since Scott's shrimp accident."

"Yeah," Stiles winces. "That wasn't fun. But you can always come to me if you need your sushi fix. Or Jackson. But we both know who's the better company between us two."

They talk about how things are going at the hospital while they eat, Allison telling him about the two interns she caught having sex in one of the supply closets, the kid who threw up on Dr. Harris and forced him to wear pink scrubs the rest of the day because the were the only ones available, and the guy who tried to feel Lydia up only to find himself lying flat on the ground with her feet on his chest and a broken nose.

"Oh, my fearless warrior queen," is all Stiles says to that, sighing dreamily.

Stiles fills her in what's happening at the firehouse, with Scott and Jackson's kitten rescue bet, Danny once again being propositioned by one of their elderly patients, and Chief Finstock reminding everyone that soon they'll have to pose for next year's calendar.

"That calendar is amazing," Allison breathes out, eyes going a little unfocused as she licks her lips and undoubtedly thinks about Scott in only firefighter pants.

Dripping wet.

And holding a hose while staring straight at the camera, lips curled up in a faint smirk.

Because that's the shot of Scott they choose for his month in the calendar.

And the shot of Scott Stiles wishes he'd never seen.

He still has nightmares about it.

Seeing Allison fantasize about his best friend's body aside, sometimes Stiles forgets how much he likes spending alone time with Allison.

He remembers thinking of her only as Scott's girlfriend for the first few months after they started dating, and how it took him actually seeing her in action and keep her calm when she was sent in the field to help them with a collapse in a mall in a town near Beacon Hills to realize she was more than just his best friend's plus one.

It also helped seeing her put Jackson in his place when he tried to stand in her way and insinuated she had no idea what she was doing there, in the middle of it all.

And the fact that she also knows how to shoot and was the only person excited enough about it to accompany Stiles when he went to the shooting range also might have given her bonus points.

So it's nice to have her here, eating dinner with him, and reassuring everything will be okay by telling him about couples yoga.

In a way, he feels a lot closer to her now that he knows about what happened to her when she was a kid, as if having her tell him about everything she went through and still coming out on the other side as one of the strongest women he's ever known makes him love her even more than he already did.

And finding himself feeling extremely protective of her when she starts dropping as soon as they finish eating, leaning her back against the couch and yawning.

It's actually so cute Stiles even goes as far as grabbing his phone and taking a few pictures, sending them to Scott.

"Stop it," Allison says as she tries to swat his hand away, whatever she's about to say next being replaced by another yawn. "Ugh, I must have been more tired than I thought."

"Which means I get to drive your pretty little ass home," Stiles gives her a long look, trying his best to look put out.

Only to have her yawn in his face again.

Stiles snorts, shaking his head at her as he gets up and extends a hand to help her stand.

"Thanks," Allison mumbles, taking her purse when Stiles hands it to her.

"No problem, Ally."

Stiles is actually kind of impressed with Allison's ability to go from awake to almost asleep in the span of five minutes as they get out of his apartment and he helps her into the Jeep, making sure she's buckled up before climbing in and sending a quick text to Scott.

**To: Scott**

_outside of your building 20min i have a very special delivery for you_

Who is waiting outside when Stiles parks the car, jogging up to them and waving.

"Dude," Stiles whispers when Scott stops by the passenger's side door. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone fall asleep this fast."

Scott looks at Allison's sleeping form and presses his lips together, shaking his head.

"I don't know what's been going on in the hospital, but she's coming home only to pass out as soon as her face hits the pillow," Scott tells him. "Did she say anything?"

"Not to me," Stiles says, frowning at her. "Lydia should know, though, if anything's happening. Or your mom."

Scott nods, "I'll talk to them."

Stiles doesn't like seeing Scott worried, but it's not like he can do anything he didn't just suggest Scott to do, so he settles for helping him get Allison out of the car and up to his apartment.

He gets stopped by a hand curling around his wrist when he grabs Scott's keys from him to open his front door, and when he looks back at Scott is to see Allison starting at him, eyes blurry with sleep as Scott holds her up.

"Remember," she says, staring at Stiles straight in the eye. "Couples yoga."

And Stiles doesn't even try and pretend he's not laughing at Scott's _horrified_ face when he realizes what Allison just said.

* * *

There's a hand on Stiles' shoulder.

There's a hand on Stiles' shoulder turning him around and pushing him against the side of his Jeep and fingers digging into his skin.

"Don't tell anyone."

"_Dude_," Stiles hisses, karate chopping Scott's hand loose from his arm. "Bad Scotty."

"Sorry," Scott says sheepishly, eyes darting around the parking lot before he leans in closer and whispers, "Don't tell anyone."

Stiles makes a face at him, rubbing at the skin of his arm where Scott dug his nails in.

"Seriously, man," Scott looks pleadingly at him. "If Jackson finds out someone other than Allison and Lydia know, he'll stop doing it. And that'd be really bad for us because it _works_, okay? Couples yoga works and we've been a lot better about things when we're working because we know we can trust each other to have the other's back. So please, _please_ don't tell anyone about it."

Stiles huffs, rolling his eyes with his entire body.

"Buddy," he says, resting his hands on Scott's shoulders. "I know. Why do you think I did tell everyone as soon as I got in? I know this is something important for both of you and that it'll help you guys work together and not do dumb stuff on the field, so there's no way I'll mess with that," Stiles pauses, purses his lips together. "Well, at least not to anyone who's not Allison and Lydia. Because you've gotta admit. You and Jackson doing couples yoga? That's one of the best things that have ever happened to me."

Stiles doesn't even try to duck when Scott hits him in the stomach, breathlessly laughing at his best friend when he just looks skyward, hands on his hips, as if wondering what the fuck he did to deserve this.

"I mean it, Scott," Stiles says, voice lowering as he tries to tell him this is serious. "I won't tell. You don't have to worry about it."

Scott gives him a long and heavy look before sighing, entire body slumping in relief.

"Thanks, dude."

"No problem," Stiles says, patting him on the side of his neck before letting his hands drop. "Now, do you have anything else you'd like to talk to me about after cornering me outside of my Jeep, or can I go grocery shopping?"

It's Scott's turn to roll his eyes at him, making a shooing gesture with his hand as he says, "Go ahead. Buy your groceries. And make sure you grab some of those pretzel bags for me for when I come over."

Stiles blinks at him.

Scott blinks back.

"Oh, you're serious."

"I don't joke about food," Scott says flatly, only for his face to break into a smile a second later.

Stiles groans, running a hand over his face while Scott keeps smiling at his own joke.

"I'm gonna go now," Stiles tells him, pointing at his car.

"Okay," Scott says, going as far as opening the driver's door and gesturing for Stiles to get inside.

Which Stiles does, buckling his seatbelt, and pointedly ignoring Scott's shout of, "Don't forget my pretzels!" as he turns on the ignition and drives away.

To grocery shop.

Which is something he's not particularly fond of, but ever since watching what a fucking god Isaac is at the task, he's gotten better at it.

You know, by implementing some of Isaac's grocery shopping strategies.

So he's about halfway done, trying to decide if he should get the original flavored pretzels or something disgusting for Scott to eat, when his phone beeps with a new message.

And makes Stiles stop short in the middle of the aisle as he reads it.

**From: Derek**

_Can I see you tonight?_

Stiles just stares at his phone, because when Derek asked him for one more day Stiles thought Derek would wait until tomorrow to want to talk to him.

And by talk Stiles means either text or call him, and not actually ask if Derek can _see_ him.

**To: Derek**

_i'm at the grocery store do you want anything?_

And it's not like he's going to say no.

He misses Derek, and his conversation with Allison yesterday makes him want to make sure everything's okay with him.

Even if he doesn't tell him anything about what happened in therapy that had him needing three days to clear his head.

Plus, seeing Derek means kissing Derek.

And he'd never say no to _that_.

**From: Derek**

_No need. Boyd is a stress baker._

Stiles gets kind of lost in imagining Boyd baking _anything_, let alone doing it as a form of stress relief, so he startles when his phone chimes again.

**From: Derek**

_45min. Your house?_

**To: Derek**

_see you then_

Thirty minutes later when Stiles is putting away all of his groceries, he's kind of impressed with himself at how fast he finished shopping.

And then he's freaking out a little because this is the first time Derek's going to be in his apartment since the dinner at Danny's, and Stiles' place is sort of in chaos.

By that he means there are dirty dishes in the sink and clothes thrown over the couch and on the floor of his bedroom.

Not that he's thinking Derek will be in his bedroom anytime soon, but after he finishes the dishes and grabs the clothes in the living room, he still feels a lot better when everything is put away and there's no visible evidence of him being a total slob.

And right on time, really.

Because as soon as he closes his closet door, his doorbell rings.

He buzzes Derek in, looking around his apartment and running his hands through his hair and feeling more nervous than he's been in a while.

So nervous he actually jumps in place when Derek knocks on the door, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down before opening it.

"Oh, wow, you really weren't kidding when you said Boyd is a stress baker."

Derek glares at him from the top of three cupcakes boxes, shouldering past Stiles and into the apartment, making his way towards the kitchen.

Stiles closes the door and follows after him.

"The opening is close," Derek says as he places the boxes on top of the counter. "Mom is driving him crazy."

That stops Stiles short.

"Opening?"

Derek's gaze snaps back at him, a thousand expressions crossing his face at once, before he nods and says, "Of the bar. It's going to be on Halloween."

"Oh," is all Stiles says, because, I mean, really.

They haven't really talked about this since the time Mrs. Hale mentioned it to Stiles and Derek told him maybe it was best for him not to go, so he doesn't know what's expected of him right now.

That is until Derek takes a deep breath and shifts on his heels, frowning a little in the way that he does when he wants to say something but doesn't quite know how.

Stiles waits, like he always does.

"There are invitations," Derek starts, not really looking at Stiles. "For the party. I'm- I still haven't stopped by to get them. For you. And- And for your friends. If you want them."

That surprised Stiles so much that for a few seconds all he can do is gape at Derek, not really knowing what to say.

Derek fills the silence for him.

"I know we- At first, I didn't- But I want you there," Derek tells him, licking his lips. "I'd like if- If you went to the party. With me."

Stiles snaps his mouth closed with a click, lips stretching in a lazy smile as he looks at Derek and drawls out, "Derek Hale, are you trying to ask me to be your date to your family's Halloween Party?"

The look Derek gives him can only be described as someone regretting their entire life choices, but he still gives him a jerky nod, "Yes."

"Good," Stiles says, beaming at him. "I accept."

For some reason, that doesn't seem to make Derek relax, and just as Stiles is about to ask him what's wrong, Derek says, "What about- What about your friends?"

Stiles blinks at him, considering.

He knows they'd all like to go, considering they haven't really made any plans for Halloween yet - never mind it's only about two weeks away -, but he doesn't want to push for a meeting if Derek's not going to be comfortable with it.

"If you're okay with it," Stiles says. "_Really_ okay with it, I think they'd like to show up. Even though we know it's a recipe for disaster to have all of our friends under the same roof. I think it'd be nice."

"I-," Derek starts. "I think it's be- I think it'd be good, if they could come. I know I haven't made the best impressi-"

"Hey," Stiles raises a hand, stopping him. "None of that. We've already had this conversation. They're not mad at you for reacting the way you did. They were just worried. And the only impression you made was of someone who makes me happy, and that's what matters to them. Nothing else."

Derek looks at him like he's not really convinced, but he doesn't try to say anything else about him not being good enough.

"Are _you_ okay with them being invited, though?" Stiles can't help but ask. "With- With Allison-"

"I'd like to meet her," Derek interrupts him. "I think- If it's like this. In a party. It'll be less pressure on us if we have other people around."

Stiles knows that by _other people_ Derek means a support net, and he can't say he disagrees.

Just like when Scott told him Allison wanted to meet Derek, he thinks this is a good idea.

So he just nods, "Okay."

"Okay," Derek says, body relaxing as if Stiles just took some weight off his shoulders. "I'll give you the invitations later."

"Alright," Stiles gives him a small smile. "Now that we got that out of the way. Are you going to kiss me hello or?"

Derek rolls his eyes, but Stiles can see the ghost of a smile in his lips as he walks up to him, hands settling in Stiles' hips as he leans in and brushes their lips together.

It's a sweet kiss, albeit a short one, but Stiles doesn't try to keep him in place when Derek pulls away.

"We better put the cupcakes in the fridge," Derek tells him, turning to the mountain of boxes on top of the counter.

"Just let me take a few first," Stiles says, and then looks back at Derek. "Are you staying?"

Derek blinks at him a couple of times before tentatively saying, "Maybe for a while."

"Okay," Stiles nods, going back to the boxes and picking a few cupcakes for him and Derek.

Derek's _maybe for a while_ turns into a couple of hours, both of them sitting on Stiles' couch, licking their fingers clean of frosting and watching tv.

Derek doesn't tell him about what happened Friday, and Stiles doesn't ask.

But when he gets up to leave and Stiles walks him to the door, Derek mumbles a, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving me time," Derek tells him, leaning in and rubbing their noses together. "For not asking. For not treating me any different."

Stiles gets his hands on Derek's shoulders, fingers coming to play with the hair at his nape, "I told you I wouldn't I have to trust to to let me know if you're not okay. So you don't have to thank me for keeping to what I said."

"I am," Derek says, breath ghosting over Stiles' lips as he rests their foreheads together. "Okay. I wasn't really. Before. That's why I asked- But I'm better now."

"Good," Stiles says, lips curling up. "_Good_."

And as Derek closes the distance between them with a smile matching Stiles' own and kisses him, Stiles thinks Derek agrees.


	11. Chapter 11

**a/n: **hey everyone! so sorry for the one month wait for this next update, but midterms week kind of got in the way. :/

also, the reason why it took me so long to post this is because **this is going to be split into two parts**. the entire chapter closed over around 25k words, so **i decided to post the first 10k right now and the other 15k next week**.

that'll give me time to get a head start on the next chapter, and hopefully the wait between them will be shorter ~

* * *

"I have a proposition to make."

"I'm not sleeping with you," comes the immediate reply from Lydia, Jackson, and Danny.

"I- You- What? No, that's not-," Stiles sputters, and then turns around to eye Scott and Allison with curiosity. "Wait. Does this mean _you_ would?"

Scott and Allison glance at each other, their eyebrow twitching a little as they have one of those silent conversations, before looking back at Stiles and saying, "I don't think Derek would appreciate it."

Stiles would think it's kind of freaky to have them speak at the same time, but he's too busy feeling flattered instead.

Because they didn't say they _wouldn't_ sleep with him.

"Is this another weird thing that's normal for you guys?" Ethan asks the room, leaning against Danny's side and taking a sip of his beer.

"You mean Stiles propositioning everyone?" Danny raises his eyebrows at him.

While Jackson and Lydia both nod and say, "Yes."

"It is not!" Stiles protests, gaping at them. "And I'll have you know I'm in a very satisfying relationship with a very sweet and hot guy."

Who is currently not here, because when Stiles mentioned having another dinner at Lydia's place, Derek looked kind of shifty about it and really uncomfortable and Stiles told him there was no problem if he felt like going wouldn't be a good idea.

To which Derek said he thought it'd be best if they all saw each other again at the Halloween Opening Party, not before.

That is, if his friends would like to come.

Not that Stiles blames Derek for not really wanting to spend time with them just yet without his own support system near, considering how the one and only time he had dinner with them went.

He just hopes that after Halloween, things will get better.

So that's why Stiles is here, telling them he has a proposition to make.

Not that they're listening to him.

"You'll find that the more time you spend with Stiles the more used to his inappropriate comments you'll be," Lydia tells him, flipping her hair over her shoulder and smiling sweetly at Ethan.

And completely ignoring the glare Stiles sends in her direction.

"I don't blame him, really," Jackson shrugs. "We're all extremely good looking."

Ethan raises his eyebrows at him, while Danny drops his forehead against his boyfriend's shoulder, trying not to laugh.

Lydia looks immensely pleased at that comment, and Scott and Allison both beam at Jackson and thank him.

Stiles just looks skyward and begs for strength.

And maybe for some new friends, while he's at it.

"As entertaining as this is," Stiles gives them all a pointed look showing them that_ it's not_. "That's not what my proposition is about."

That grasps their attention, Jackson going as far as looking surprised that what Stiles wants to talk to them about is no his desire to have a group orgy.

Not that Stiles had ever suggested it before.

Not out loud.

And definitely not now that he's with Derek, thank you very much.

Even though they haven't had sex yet.

"What did you want to talk to us about?" Allison asks him, wiggling her feet from where her legs are draped over Scott's lap.

"What I wanted to talk to you about is," Stiles says slowly, eyes raking over his friends. "Halloween. And whether or not we have plans for it yet."

"We don't," Lydia tells him, eyes calculating. "But you asking us that means you have an idea."

Stiles nods, because he does have an idea.

Well, Derek does but Stiles frees wholeheartedly to it.

"Have you guys heard about _Triskele_?"

A lot of things happen at once.

Like Jackson leaning forward so fast he dislodges Lydia from his side, almost sending her crashing to the floor because she's too busy busy staring at Stiles like she's never seen him before to keep her balance.

And Allison trying to right herself into a sitting position, bringing her legs up at the same time Scott turns to gape at Stiles, accidentally kneeing Scott in the chin.

And also Ethan spitting his beer.

All over Danny.

Who just blinks at Stiles.

Who, in turn, steps into Lydia's kitchen, walking back to the living room with a dishcloth for Danny to dry himself off and frozen peas for Scott's bruised face.

And if he takes about thirty seconds too long to came back it's not because the first thing he does when he gets away from them is laugh.

Really.

It isn't.

"So I take it you _have_ heard about it," Stiles sits back down in his chair, biting on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from keep laughing at them.

_To their faces_.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" and Stiles thinks he should be a little afraid of the crazy eyes Jackson is sending him. "Who _hasn't_ heard of it?"

"It's all everyone at the hospital has been talking about since they put up the sign," Allison tells him, nodding.

"And wondering when it's going to open," Lydia fills, expression again carefully blank and eyes burning into his soul like she knows exactly why he's asking them this.

"I always have at least one student per class asking the same thing," Ethan pipes up. "And if the reason why it's taking so long is because something happened there."

"Something?" Scott asks, frowning a little.

"The rumor at Jungle is that it's either because they're turning the back rooms into _private_ rooms or because they're having a hard time getting rid of all the bloodstains," Danny says, raising his eyebrows at them.

Stiles just looks across the room, taking in the varying levels of astonishment, curiosity, and apprehension in his friend's faces.

And then he just clasps his hands together and says, "Well, I'm sure Derek's mother will love to know people either think she's a sex deviant or a serial killer."

Stiles will never admit out loud the absolute _joy_ he feels at having all of them snap their heads to him, looking utterly horrified.

"Derek's _mother_?" Jackson says flatly, his left eye twitching. "Your _boyfriend's mother_ is the owner of _Triskele_?"

"Yep," Stiles says, radiating smugness.

"Dude," Scott nods at him, raising a fist. "Nice going."

Stiles bumps their fists together, "Thanks, buddy."

Stiles doesn't really know why he's thanking him.

Sure, he's been waiting for people to acknowledge what a catch Derek is, but he didn't think that would happen because Mrs. Hale owns a bar.

Nevermind that apparently said bar is the talk of the town.

"What you're saying is," Danny says slowly, eyes glued to Stiles' face. "That _Triskele_ is owned by Derek's _family_."

"That's what I'm saying, yes," Stiles nods, lips curling up. "And I'm also saying that I know when it's going to open."

A muscle in Jackson's jaw ticks and he looks like he can't believe Stiles is the one with that knowledge.

Stiles tries not to feel too happy about it.

"Halloween," Lydia says, putting the pieces together.

"And that's my proposition," Stiles tells them. "For you to spend Halloween with me and Derek at _Triskele_'s opening party."

There's complete silence for a couple of seconds.

And then Stiles finds himself at the bottom of a pile of warm bodies, arms hugging him and hands petting him and lips kissing him in the cheek and forehead and nose, the voices of all of his friends saying, "Fuck _yes_."

* * *

**To: Derek**

_they all said yes to halloween :D_

**From: Derek**

_I'll bring you the invitations when we see each other._

**To: Derek**

_also did you know that the rumors around town is that the bar is not opened yet because your mom is either_

**To: Derek**

_a) turning the back rooms into sex wings_

**To: Derek**

_b) having a hard time getting rid of the evidence of all the people she killed_

**From: Derek**

_I showed her your texts._

**From: Derek**

_She just smiled and said everything is going according to plan?_

* * *

"I didn't think it'd be okay to bring it up at Lydia's, but how was your dinner with Ethan and his brother?"

"It wasn't."

Stiles blinks, turning back to look at Danny from where they're both sharing one of the couches in the firehouse's rec room.

"It was- What?"

"It didn't happen," Danny sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Ethan's brother never showed up."

Stiles winces, lips pressing together as he clasps a hand on Danny's shoulder, "Did he say why not?"

Danny shakes his head, sighing again.

"Is Ethan okay?" Stiles asks him. "He looked good at dinner, but still. Is everything okay?"

"He says he is, but…," Danny trails off, expression hardening. "It's kind of obvious he's not. I mean, who would be if their brother ditched dinner with the boyfriend without so much as a call?"

Stiles knows he wouldn't be okay.

He'd be pretty pissed, actually.

And hurt.

But he figures Danny's not looking for an answer to his question, just a means to vent about what a complete douchebag Ethan's brother seems to be.

"Do you think," Stiles starts, not really knowing to how word it. "Do you think it might be because-"

"We're gay?" Danny raises both eyebrows at him.

"Well, yeah," Stiles shrugs. "Do you think he has a problem with it?"

"I don't think so," Danny tells him, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "At least Ethan never mentioned anything about it."

"Then that's not it," Stiles dismisses his idea quickly, but at Danny's unconvinced look he adds, "I doubt Ethan would keep contact with him if it was. He doesn't seem like someone who takes any shit from anybody."

Stiles mostly says that after seeing Ethan fight with Lydia about who'd eat the last cake slice they had for dessert at her house.

And winning.

"He doesn't," Danny smiles at him, cheeks dimpling.

Stiles snorts, grinning back before squeezing his shoulder and letting his hand drop.

"I'm sure it was nothing," Stiles says. "You know, aside from Ethan's brother confirming our suspicions."

"Suspicions?" Danny blinks at him, face blank.

"Of him being a dick."

Danny rolls his eyes at him, bumping their shoulders together.

"I just hope it wasn't anything serious," Danny says quietly.

"You know what they say about bad news traveling fast."

"So if we heard nothing then we shouldn't worry."

"Exactly," Stiles nods. "And for payback you should totally bring Jackson along if you have a raincheck for the dinner thing. I'm sure Ethan's brother will love that."

Danny leans back against the couch, hands covering his face.

Stiles would be worried if he couldn't see Danny's shoulders shaking and hear the muffled sounds of his laughter.

"Thanks, Stiles," Danny says after catching his breath. "I needed that."

"That's what I'm here for," Stiles says, waving a hand around. "To bring joy to the world and all."

"I thought that was Santa."

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before clasping his hands together and saying, "Speaking of Santa, do you have any ideas what your Halloween costume will be?"

"I'm not going to pretend I understand the jump your mind just made there," Danny looks at him. "But yes, I do."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

"No," Danny grins at him, dimples showing when Stiles groans and scrubs a hand over his face.

Because the thing is, he doesn't really know what he should dress up as.

Sure, he has the bunny costume from Easter and the Egg Run, but he doesn't want to look like he didn't even _try_ to come up with something better to wear.

He knows how important this is to Derek, and he doesn't want to screw it up by showing up in a shitty costume.

It's also possible that he's giving too much meaning to this whole thing and Derek doesn't even care if he shows up in a bunny suit or in nothing_ at all_, but still.

Stiles wants to come up with something nice.

"This is harder than I thought it would be," Stiles mumbles, letting out a long breath.

"Ethan and I come up with ours as soon as we got home after Lydia's," Danny tells him.

"You're doing a couples costume?" Stiles raises both eyebrows at him before frowning, wondering if he and Derek should do the same thing.

"We talked about it," Danny shrugs one shoulder. "At first we were going in individual costumes, but when we started looking for them we decided we should team up."

Stiles makes a noise at the back of his throat, "I should probably talk to Derek about this."

"You should," Danny nods in agreement. "I know Jackson and Lydia are doing something separate."

Stiles rolls his eyes at that, because it doesn't really help him.

You know, considering how they have no idea if Lydia and Jackson are even together right now.

"Scott and Allison will probably do something together and disgustingly adorable," Stiles huffs.

"We will," comes Scott's voice from behind them, and a second later Scott is jumping over the back of the couch and sitting beside Stiles'. "We already have our costumes ready."

Stiles makes a face at him, resigning himself to be the only one in his group of friends who has no idea what he's going to be dressing up as.

"You'll think of something," Danny tells him, offering a reassuring smile that soon turns into a smirk. "Or I can always ask Miss Ginger Snaps to give you a hand."

Stiles almost says he will when it sinks in that he's looking for something to wear at _Triskele_.

You know, _Derek's mother's bar_.

Where she'll probably _be_ at when the opening happens.

Meaning Stiles can't wear anything too revealing.

And he doesn't know Derek's family and friends well enough yet to predict how they'd react to him crossdressing.

Hell, he doesn't really know _Derek_ well enough to predict how he'd react to see Stiles in a dress and heels.

Stiles should probably rectify that.

You know, for future reference.

"I can also always ask her to show Ethan the pictures of you covered in purple body paint and glitter and trying to get unsuspecting twinks to see _how juicy and sweet your grapes taste like._"

Danny gapes.

Stiles stares.

And Scott gets up, shaking his head and saying, "No, I'm not listening to this."

Nevermind that Scott was actually there when that happened.

And had to throw out his stained shirt after helping Stiles drag Danny home and make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit.

He still wasn't the one who has to help Danny scrub all the paint and glitter off, though.

That task fell to Jackson.

Stiles had never been happier.

Danny closes his mouth with a click, extending a hand, "Truce?"

"You're a wise man, Danny," Stiles says, taking the hand and shaking it.

"But seriously," Danny tells him. "You'll think of something."

Stiles sighs, hoping it's true.

And if push comes to shove, he can always ask his dad for a deputy uniform.

Or Mrs. McCall for one of her scrubs.

Not that they'll fit him, but still.

It'll be _something_.

"Hey, Stilinski!"

The Chief's booming voice startles Stiles' out of his thoughts, making him and Danny jump a little in place as they see Finstock standing in front of the open door to his office, hands on his waist.

"What are you waiting for? Come here!"

Stiles looks at Danny in silent question, who only shakes his head and shrugs at him in a way that says he has no idea what the fuck is going on, before getting up and walking towards him.

"Chief."

"Get in," Finstock point a finger to the open door, closing the door behind them when Stiles steps inside.

He doesn't say anything, though, just stands there staring at Stiles with wide wide, arms now crossed over his chest.

"Uh- Is there anything I can do for you, sir?" Stiles fidgets a little in place.

He wonders if Finstock finally realized that the ones who keep stealing food from his candy stash are him and Scott, and if being stared at is the Chief's tactic to get him to own up to it.

Not that Stiles will.

His dad taught him better than to open his mouth and admit to anything when he finds himself in trouble.

Innocent until proven guilty and all that.

"Yes," is what Finstock says, still staring.

When nothing follows after that, Stiles asks, "And what would that… be?"

Chief Finstock looks around the room, as if to make sure they're alone, before making a gesture with his hand for Stiles to come closer.

Stiles hesitates a little, but with a glare from the Chief he quickly leans in.

"I heard you're dating the son of the owner of that new bar in town everyone's been talking about," Finstock whispers loudly.

Stiles presses his lips together as he tries to figure out who was the one who opened his mouth and told _that_ little detail to him.

"Okay," is what Stiles says, slowly and quietly, neither confirming nor denying what the Chief just said.

And also having absolutely no idea where this is going.

Right up until Finstock says, "I want an invitation."

* * *

"Do you have them?"

"Hello to you, too," Derek says, kissing him lightly on the lips before walking past Stiles and into the apartment. "And yes, I have them."

"Thank fuck," Stiles breathes out, closing the door and walking up to Derek, snaking his arms around Derek's waist and hugging him from behind, chin tucked over Derek's shoulder. "Now everyone can stop pestering me about when they'll get their invitations to the hottest place in Beacon Hills."

"I still can't believe people think the bar is the scene of multiple murders," Derek shakes his head resting a hand on top of Stiles' own. "Or a sex club."

"I think you should be more worried about people thinking your mom could pass for a killer."

"And not someone who runs a den of iniquity?" Derek says, turning around with both eyebrows raised so he can look at the side of Stiles' face.

"I don't know," Stiles says slowly, hiding his smile against Derek's shoulder. "Your mom kind of does look like someone who could dominate an entire room of people by just standing there and staring at them."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't catch that," Derek says after a few beats of silence, tapping his fingers against the back of Stiles' hand so he can turn in his arms. "And that all you did was compliment my mother in what a wonderful person she is."

"She is wonderful," Stiles nods in agreement, getting closer to Derek when the man wraps his arms around Stiles' shoulder. "She birthed and raised one of my favorite people in the world. She deserves all the credit I can give her."

"Thank you," Derek says, looking all kinds of smug as he leans in to rub their noses together.

Stiles huffs, "Who says I'm talking about you? Cora is clearly my favorite Hale sibling."

Derek steps back from Stiles hold, pointing a finger to the door and saying, "Then you won't mind if I leave and don't take you out, will you?"

"No, no, come back," Stiles says, making grabby hands. "I take it back. You're my favorite."

Derek chuckles as Stiles gets his hands on his shirt, settling his hands on Stiles' hip and tugging him forward into his chest.

Stiles goes willingly, his arms trapped between their chests, nuzzling his nose against Derek's cheek before placing a kiss on his jaw.

"Don't think I didn't notice the lack of comment about Mrs. Hale being able to kill people," he says quietly, burying his face against Derek's neck.

"I thought everyone knew that already," Derek teases, pressing his smile against Stiles' temple, hands squeezing his hips and when Stiles shudders.

"Your mom's a scary woman."

"I'll never understand why you're afraid of her," Derek says, shaking his head.

"It's not _fear_," Stiles tells him, pulling back to look him in the eye. "It's _respect_. I know for a fact that she could wipe the floor with me if she wanted to."

"That's true enough," Derek says, smiling at little. "You're in luck she likes you, then. So much so she even send you a couple of extra invitations."

"Oh, really? She didn't have to," Stiles says, frowning a little.

"She wanted to," Derek shrugs one shoulder. "She said maybe you'd have someone who asked you for one without knowing you had a set number for how many you'd be given, and having a few extra ones would help you with that."

"That's very nice of her," Stiles says, because Stiles _had_ people asking him about getting invitations. "Remind me to thank her at the party."

"She'll say there's no need to thank her," Derek says, and at the face Stiles makes at him he adds, "But I will."

"Thank you," Stiles says, pecking him on the lips. "Now can I see them?"

Derek sighs, stepping back and letting his hands fall from Stiles' hip, reaching a hand inside his jacket and coming out with a white envelope, which he hands it to Stiles.

Stiles doesn't even think to contain his excitement when he opens it, lips stretching into a smile as he pulls out a black business card with the outline of a triskele in white ink right in the middle of it. But his smile quickly turns into a confused frown when he turns the card on his fingers only to find the back blank.

"It's only so you can show it at the door," Derek explains. "If you have this then they'll let you in without having to wait in line."

Stiles raises his eyebrows, "I'm impressed. And I kind of feel like I'm super important right now."

"You're always important," Derek says, the tips of his ears turning red and his eyes widening a little like he hadn't meant for that to come out.

Stiles just beams at him, closing the distance between them to brush their lips together.

"You're always important, too."

Derek's blush deepens at that, and Stiles can't help but grin wider as Derek shifts a little in place and tries not to look as awkward as he's probably feeling.

He doesn't really succeed.

But lucky for him, that's one of the things Stiles loves most about him.

How fucking _adorable_ he is when he's embarrassed.

Stiles kisses him one more time before pulling back, putting the black card inside the envelope and placing it on top of his entry table.

When he turns back to Derek is to see he already has the front door opened, one of his hands buried in his pocket, an expectant look on his face.

Stiles grabs his keys and wallet and kisses him on the cheek on his way out, Derek closing the door behind them.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Stiles asks him. "You know we didn't have the best of luck the last time."

"That's because it was summer," Derek raises an eyebrow at him, taking Stiles' hand in his own and lacing their fingers together. "And also because we were at the Preserve."

"Good job on blaming the weather and scenario for my total lack of stamina," Stiles says, patting Derek on the shoulder with his free hand. "I'm proud of you."

"We're almost at the end of October," Derek says. "I doubt taking a walk at the local park will take that much out of you."

"You never know, Derek," Stiles shakes his head. "I might surprise you and be in even worse shape than I was when we went hiking."

Derek makes a show of stopping just as they get to his car, turning around so he's standing in front of Stiles, eyes slowly making his way from Stiles' feet up to his face.

Stiles' entire body tingles at having Derek stare at him that way, and he has to bite down on his bottom lip not to make any embarrassing noise when Derek licks his lips and says, "You look pretty good to me."

Stiles doesn't swoon.

Really.

He doesn't.

But he does accept Derek's kiss when it comes, opening up so Derek can lick his way past his lips, so he can taste him, so he can nip at his bottom lip and tug before pulling back and kissing the corner of his mouth.

"C'mon," Derek says quietly, breath ghosting over Stiles' still parted lips. "I'm sure there's a pile of leaves at the park with your name on it just waiting to be jumped on."

Stiles tries his best not to make a comment about how he could jump Derek instead, settling for getting in the car and fighting for control of the radio with Derek until they get to their destination.

Or until Stiles makes Derek stop at a coffee shop and buy them both a pumpkin spice latte.

"It's tradition, Derek," Stiles says seriously, handing him in cup. "You can't_ not_ drink one of these in the Fall."

"But I don't even like it," Derek makes a face at his cup. "It's too sweet."

"Have you ever tried it?" Stiles raises an eyebrow at him.

Stiles doesn't even fight his smug grin when he hears Derek mumble a _no_, looking encouragingly at him and saying, "Then give it a chance. If you don't like, I'll drink the rest."

Derek stares from the cup and to Stiles and back to the cup again, bringing it up to his face and _sniffing it_ before taking an experimental sip.

Stiles holds in all the dog jokes he wants to make, eyes glued to Derek's face as he sees him swallowing.

And then throwing his head back and laughing at how fucking _offended_ Derek looks at the drink, mouth opened and brows frowning and letting out this little gasp that it's the fucking cherry on top of all of this.

"This is _disgusting_," Derek says, holding the cup by the rim between two fingers as far away from him as he can. "How can you even _drink_ this?"

Stiles takes the cup away from him, trying to wipe his eyes with his other hand, shoulders still shaking with laughter.

"Oh, man," Stiles says, trying to catch his breath. "That was awesome."

"You mean _terrible_," Derek mutters as they walk back to the car, jaw clenched. "I'm never trusting your taste in coffee drinks ever again."

"'S all good, boo," Stiles says, placing Derek's cup in the cup holder before leaning in and kissing the hinge of his jaw. "As long as you trust me in everything else."

Derek turns his head to look at him, their noses bumping together, and the look in his eyes tells Stiles Derek's absolutely serious when he says, "I do."

Stiles' breath hitches, because he understands the enormity of what Derek just told him, the weight of it.

Because Derek doesn't trust people, not really, not after Kate.

Stiles knows Derek thinks he made a mistake by letting her in, and that because of it it's so hard for him to let anyone since then get close to him now.

So that fact that he's telling Stiles this, the fact that he _means it_, shakes Stiles to his very soul.

Because trust is not something Derek gives easily, but somewhere along the way he gave it to Stiles.

"I trust you, too," is what Stiles says, instead of the I love you that wants to come out.

He takes in Derek's small smile at that, wondering if Derek knows what he actually means, before Derek is leaning in to steal a kiss.

And then grimace as he tastes the latte on Stiles' lips.

Stiles smiles all the way over to the park, finishing his first drink and throwing the empty cup in a nearby trashcan as they walk out of the car, Derek's cup in one hand and the other gripping Derek's tight.

"So," Stiles says, turning his head to he can look at Derek as they walk. "How are you?"

Derek slowly turns back to him, one eyebrow arched, and the most unimpressed look on his face.

"You're asking me that now? After we've already left your apartment and you tried to poison me with seasonal coffee drinks."

Stiles purses his lips together, refusing to feel guilty.

And also refusing to comment about the coffee quip.

"I got sidetracked."

"You got sidetracked," Derek says flatly.

"It happens a lot," Stiles nods, completely serious. "One minute I'm reading about world economics and next thing I know I'm three different sites in on the history of circumcision. It's been known to happen."

Derek blinks at him.

"I don't want to know, do I?"

"Probably not," Stiles shakes his head, and then squeezes Derek's hand. "Seriously, though. How are you?"

Stiles is asking because yesterday Derek had his second therapy session, and differently from last week he apparently doesn't need some extra time to get his head on straight afterwards.

Which is a really good thing, but still.

Stiles feels better if he knows for certain that everything is as okay as it can be with Derek.

"I'm- I'm good," Derek says, squeezing Stiles' hand back.

"Yeah?" Stiles smiles softly at him, and at Derek's nod he says. "Good to know."

"That's-," Derek starts, stopping to look around them.

Stiles follows his eyes, seeing other couples like them walking and laughing, some people walking or playing with their dogs, others jogging around the length of the park, a few parents with their children trying to keep them from eating grass or worms or from running away from them.

Derek tugs at Stiles' hand and walks them away from all the commotion, to a more secluded area in the park with a lot more trees and a lot less people, and Stiles starts getting nervous about whatever it is Derek started saying but stopped.

He tries to take it to heart Derek telling him he's okay, not saying anything as Derek finds them an empty bench with no one around and pushes him down on it, sitting down by his side, their hands still together.

"Okay?" Stiles asks him when Derek doesn't say anything.

Derek takes a deep breath, nodding.

"Sorry," Derek says. "I just- I have something to tell you and I didn't want to do it while dogs were around us barking."

Stiles rolls his eyes at him, shifting a little on the bench so he can rest his chin on top of Derek's shoulder.

"There are no dogs around here," Stiles tells him. "You've manage to find us the spot in the park where people come to hook up or to chop someone in little pieces."

It's Derek's turn to roll his eyes at him, but this playful side of him tells Stiles that whatever Derek wants to say to him is not something bad.

"I talked to my doctor yesterday," Derek says, and Stiles goes utterly still. "She wants- She thinks it'd be best if we saw each twice a week. Instead of only on Fridays."

"Oh?"

Stiles doesn't know what to say to that, really.

Mostly because he doesn't know if that's a good or a bad thing.

"Yeah," Derek says, turning his head so he can look at Stiles, their noses almost touching. "She said it's good that I seem determined to work through this, but that it's going to take time and effort from both of us to get me where we want me to be. Mentally. That she'd like to keep a close eye on me at the beginning, when we have a lot to work through, so it'd be best if we saw each other more regularly. And that as time passed and I made progress, we could fall back to just one session a week again. So I'll be seeing her on Mondays, too."

Stiles nods, because this is a good thing.

"So I wanted to let you know," Derek says, lowering his voice. "Before I started this Monday."

"Okay," Stiles says, giving him a small smile before leaning in and kissing him quickly. "Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome," Derek breathes out, and then looks a bit uncertain as he says, "And about- Can it be the same as Friday?"

Stiles has become quite well versed in filling the gaps on Derek's unfinished sentences, so he knows what Derek is asking is if they can keep doing what they're doing on Fridays and only talk the day after Derek's therapy sessions, unless Derek needs some more time.

"Yes, it can," Stiles reassures him. "Same as Friday. You don't have to worry about it."

Or feel guilty because they don't talk that day, is what Stiles doesn't say but he knows Derek gets it.

"Want to go back to the populated part of the park now?" Derek asks him after a few beats of silence.

Stiles considers.

And then smiles slowly.

"Can we make out first?"

As it turns out, they can.

And they do.

A _lot_.

So much so that when they get back up and start walking again, Stiles is still feeling so dazed that he doesn't even notice the big pile of leaves in his way until Derek pushes him sideways into it.

* * *

**To: Derek**

_did you know i found another leaf stuck between my pillows and the headboard_

**To: Derek**

_it's been three days derek where the fuck are they coming from?_

**To: Derek**

_i swear to god derek next time you push me into a pile of leaves i'm taking you down with me_

**To: Derek**

_jackson saved a kitten this afternoon and didn't even get scratched doing it life is no fun sometimes_

**To: Derek**

_did you know there's a tree right outside my window that's shedding because it's fall and that's what trees do when that time comes around?_

**To: Derek**

_and that sometimes i like to leave my bedroom window opened in the mornings because it makes the room chilly and nice to be in?_

**To: Derek**

_well... lets just say that mystery of the fallen leaves has been solved_

* * *

"I don't remember choosing a costume being this hard when I was a kid."

"That's because the extent of your imagination was to be a bloody something," his dad tells him, shifting on the couch so he can look directly at Stiles. "A bloody pirate, a bloody ghost, a bloody mad scientist, a bloody space cowboy. And then there was that one year you wanted to be a bloody librarian. I still get side-eyed by Mrs. Farrer whenever I walk by her on the street because of that one."

"She wouldn't let me read _Fight Club_, dad," Stiles says. "I was _fifteen_ and she said it was _inappropriate_. I refuse to feel guilty about it."

"She didn't want you getting any ideas," his dad raises an eyebrow at him, and then shakes his head. "But heaven knows that you starting your own fight club was the last thing we had to worry about then."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Stiles sniffs. "I was a lovely young man."

The Sheriff outright laughs at that, head thrown back and eyes crinkling at the corners, and it takes him about forty seconds too long to get a hold of himself.

Stiles doesn't know why he's laughing.

It's not like Stiles used to sneak around in the woods at night.

Or used to get drunk in the woods at night.

Or used to get into fights with other people who were also sneaking around and getting drunk in the woods at night.

Or used to lock people up in a stolen police van because of a prank war and leave them there.

In the woods.

At night.

"That was a good one, kid," he smiles warmly at Stiles, reaching a hand to pat Stiles on the shoulder.

What's also good is that he and his dad are able to laugh about all of that now.

Because he knows there wasn't a lot of laughing about anything back then.

"And if you thought being a bloody anything was unoriginal, why didn't you ever say anything?" Stiles narrows his eyes at him. "Or gave me other ideas?"

His dad smiles at him, and Stiles goes a little cold at the edges.

Because he knows that smile and look in his father's eyes.

It means he's thinking about Stiles' mom.

"I don't know if you remember," his dad tells him. "But when you first started with this whole _bloody_ thing you used to run your fingers through the fake blood and then stick them in your mouth."

Stiles makes a face, because he doesn't remember that.

And also because _gross_.

"The first time you did it you got sick," the Sheriff gives him a look, as if saying of course you did. "You started throwing up a lot and saying your tummy hurt, so we took you to the hospital. We thought it was because you'd eaten too much candy, but later we found out from the doctor it was because there was something in the fake blood we bought from a store that wasn't meant to be ingested."

Stiles tries to think back at what would have made little Stiles think it was a good idea to eat fake blood, and then stops himself when an imagine of him being twenty-one and drinking expired milk just because Scott dared him to comes to mind.

"The next year when we asked you what you wanted to be for Halloween you said, without hesitation, a bloody _garden gnome_," his dad shakes his head.

Stiles blinks at him.

"I was a weird kid, wasn't I?"

"Your mother and I liked to think you were unique," the Sheriff smiles at him. "And we also liked to think that when you kept asking us to add more blood to your costume because you didn't look _dead_ enough was because the gnomes on our neighbor's yard scared you and this was your way of coping."

"And I don't know what it says about your parenting skills that you guys let me do that," Stiles shakes his head at his dad, but feeling unbelievably grateful for being their kid.

His dad pinches the bridge of his nose, and Stiles would be worried about him being mad if it wasn't for the way he can see the corner of his dad's lips twitching, like he's fighting a smile.

But he does keep going.

"Your mom found a fake blood recipe that was edible. It used cocoa powder, golden syrup, cherry Kool Aid powder, and it tasted_ amazing_," his dad grins at him. "She always made extra to carry in a bottle so she could retouch your costume when you were out trick or treating, and at the end of the night there was always some left."

"You drank it, didn't you?" Stiles shakes his head at him.

"It's not like I could eat your candy," the Sheriff shrugs, unapologetic.

"I'm judging you so hard right now," Stiles tells him. "Just so you know."

"Says the kid who used to lick that stuff right off his skin," his dad raises an eyebrow at him.

Stiles opens and closes his mouth.

He doesn't really have an argument for that.

"I don't think being covered in blood will be a good call this time," is what Stiles says instead.

Because he doesn't want to think about Derek and _licking_ in the same sentence.

At least not in front of his dad.

"There's always last year's costume," his dad says, wincing minutely.

Stiles tries not to smile.

He doesn't succeed much.

"I don't think going as Dr. Frank-N-Furter will be a good idea either," Stiles admits. "I know not everyone can appreciate how good I look in stockings, heels, and a corset."

"You're probably right," his dad nods, like it's a totally normal thing for them to be talking about women's clothing.

But to be fair, this is not the strangest conversation they've had.

"And like I said, this is harder than I remember it being."

"Just pick something that means something to you," the Sheriff says. "That's what you always did. You read a book or saw something on tv or learned a new thing at school that stuck with you and then you wanted to dress up as that. Simple."

Stiles frowns, wondering if his dad is on to something.

And deciding it won't do him any good to keep thinking about this.

"And what about you?" Stiles asks him. "I know Mrs. Hale gave you and Mrs. McCall invitations."

Or more like Derek called him and told him about it, trying to look and sound a lot calmer than he was feeling when he found out that Stiles' dad could be at the opening.

Stiles told him he didn't think his dad would make a big deal out of it, that if he showed up it'd be about supporting Mrs. Hale and not trying to intimidate her son.

Stiles doesn't think Derek believes.

And as he looks at his dad now, he can't say he disagrees.

"She did," his dad smirks at him, but doesn't say anything else.

"And?" Stiles prompts. "Are you going?"

"That, Stiles," his dad points a finger at him. "Is for me to know and you to worry about."

Stiles buries his head in his hands and tries to ignore the sound of his dad laughing at him.

And when he gets home that evening and places his phone on his nightstand, eyes catching on the plush bunny in biker gear he won for himself when Derek took him to that motorbike fair and giving him an idea, Stiles realizes his dad was right on the spot about picking a costume that meant something to him.

And if it means something to Derek too?

Well, that's just a plus.

* * *

**From: Derek**

_Boyd is stress baking again._

**From: Derek**

_Brownies instead of cupcakes._

**From: Derek**

_All in the shape of bats._

Stiles reads the messages as a slow smile appears on his face, his mind going back to the deliciousness that were the cupcakes Derek brought him last time Boyd stress baked.

And as he realizes today is a Friday, one of Derek's therapy days, and that he's making contact.

Which means that whatever was discussed during his session today didn't affect him as much as the other times, or that Derek is doing better at coming to terms with things and learning how to deal with them.

Whatever it is, it makes Stiles' heart flip in his chest at knowing that Derek's _okay_, that he feels good enough to be able to talk to Stiles today.

So he doesn't even hesitate to hit the call button, walking around his apartment and to his room as he waits for Derek to pick up.

When he does, the first thing out of Stiles' mouth is, "Please tell me I'll get to eat them tomorrow at the party."

He hears Derek snort as he lies down on his bed, arm coming up to rest behind his head as he holds the phone to his ear with his other hand.

"If he doesn't strangle my mother first," Derek says, sounding fond.

"What is it this time?"

Him and Derek still don't really talk much on the phone, but compared to how it was back in the beginning of their relationship - when they basically just talked to each other when the other was freaking out about something - it's easy to see a lot has changed.

It's another thing that shows Stiles how much more comfortable Derek feels around him after telling Stiles all about what happened with Kate.

Like now that Stiles knows all about it and he didn't leave Derek, it means what they have between them is real and there and not going anywhere.

And right now, it tells Stiles Derek is indeed okay, judging by the playful tone of his voice and the lack of hesitancy as they speak to each other.

"She's bothering him and Cora about bartending," Derek says, and Stiles can practically see him rolling his eyes. "She knows she's going to have to hire more people, at least for tomorrow night, but she wants them to know that doesn't give them an excuse to slack on their work and go hang out with their respective others."

Stiles winces, toeing off his socks and throwing them somewhere in the direction of the end of the mattress or floor before making himself more comfortable in bed.

"I can see Cora not liking to hear that," Stiles says. "And I can see Boyd being offended she'd even think he'd do something like that."

"But he's too respectful of her to say anything," Derek agrees. "Not that Cora has that particular problem. She and mom have been fighting over how Cora's not a child anymore and mom should stop treating her like one. Fighting doesn't really help with Boyd's mood, so that's why he's currently taking his anger and stress out on baking Halloween themed food."

"Which are the best thing ever, by the way," Stiles pipes up, lips curling into a smile as he remembers the cupcakes. "And I hope your mom and Cora stop fighting."

Derek snorts, "Like that'd ever happen. And mom agrees about the cupcakes, which is why she asked Boyd to bring the food to the bar so everyone can eat it after they close."

"I hope you know that by everyone I'm including myself."

The low sound of Derek's chuckle does_ things_ to Stiles, and he has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep himself from making a sound.

Because it's one thing to hear it when he and Derek are out doing something in _public_ and Stiles says something that makes Derek laugh, but it's another when Stiles is lying down on his bed, alone, in the middle of the night, in loose sweatpants and worn out shirt, and _sexually frustrated_.

Not having sex with anyone for over seven months does that to a guy.

Especially when most of that time has been spent next to and making out with the hottest guy to ever exist, Derek Hale.

So that's why Stiles promptly starts thinking about Chief Finstock naked and covered in baby oil, not wanting to get himself worked up and end up saying something that'll make Derek feel uncomfortable.

At least not until he's off the phone.

"You should," Derek says, voice low. "I already told Boyd how much you liked the cupcakes, so he's probably baking with you in mind, too."

"I know I said you were my favorite, but I think I'm gonna have to change my mind," Stiles says, turning on his side on the bed.

His eyes find Bunny Yummy, still propped on Stiles' nightstand.

"I'm sure Boyd will be elated," Derek deadpans.

"As he should," Stiles sniffs, still staring at the plush bunny. "Do you know what you're going to dress up as?"

"For Halloween?"

"Obviously," Stiles rolls his eyes.

"Yes."

"And?" Stiles prompts when Derek doesn't say anything else, reaching out a hand to pick up the bunny.

"And what?" Derek says, trying to pretend he has no idea what Stiles is asking.

"And what is it?" Stiles huffs, lying flat on his back again and placing the bunny over his stomach.

"I'm not telling you."

"Derek."

"Stiles."

"_Derek_," Stiles whines.

"Stiles," Derek sighs. "I want it to be a surprise."

Stiles purses his lips together, fingers playing with the fake leather jacket his bunny is wearing.

"Okay," Stiles says quietly, eyes intent on Bunny Yummy's clothing as his mind works. "Surprise it is."

"Don't sound so excited."

"I won't," Stiles teases. "And I also promise I won't jump you as soon as I see how sexy you look in your costume."

"You're breaking my heart," Derek says flatly.

"I wouldn't," Stiles says, more seriously than he intended.

Derek must notice it, too, because when he speaks again his voice is low, "I know."

They stay silent for a few seconds after that, just hearing the other's breathing through the phone.

It settles something in Stiles' chest, making him feel warm and content and like he's with exactly who he's supposed to be.

"And what are you going to be dressed up as?" Derek asks, voice soft.

A slow grin appears on Stiles' face, fingers hooking under the waistband of the fake leather pants the bunny is wearing.

"Your wildest dreams," Stiles can't resists saying, muffling his laughter with his hand when he hears Derek make a sound like he's choking. "You okay?"

Derek doesn't answer right away, and when he does he comes out sounding a little strangled, "I'm fine."

Stiles smiles knowingly, feeling a little guilty about enjoying the obvious effect he has on Derek.

"I also want my costume to be a surprise," Stiles says, choosing not to comment on Derek's behavior.

And not asking him about what came to his mind when Stiles said he'd be dressed at his wildest dreams.

He'll leave that for a later date.

You know, probably after they start having sex with each other.

And not just with their own hands.

Stiles quickly stops that train of thought when his dick twitches in interest at the images of Derek getting himself off, focusing on what Derek is saying to him on the phone.

Or at least trying to.

Not that he's successful.

You know, at all.

Stiles finds that it's extremely difficult to focus on anything when he's still thinking about Derek with a hand wrapped around his own dick, his chest rising and falling fast with each panting breath, head thrown back, eyes closed and mouth parted in a silent moan.

Which is why he thinks Derek must have been calling his name for a while when he didn't answer to whatever it is that Derek said.

"Stiles? Are you there?" Derek asks. "Or did you sleep in the middle of talking to me again?"

"I'm-," Stiles says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks. "Sorry, I'm here."

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just got… distracted,"_ by the thought of you jerking off_, is what Stiles bites on his bottom lip not to add. "Did you ask me something?"

"Not really," Derek says. "Just said I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."

Stiles swallows hard, heart melting a little in his chest at hearing that.

Because Derek sounds like he _misses him_, nevermind it hasn't been long since they last saw each other.

"Me too," Stiles says. "Are you nervous?"

Stiles knows he is.

He knows how much of a big step this is to both of them, especially Derek, and he wants everything to go as smoothly as possible.

Which is not something he can predict it will, considering who his friends are.

But hope springs eternal.

"A little," Derek admits, and Stiles knows he must be thinking about what happened the last time he let anyone get close to his family and friends.

"Me too," Stiles breathes out. "But I think everything will turn out okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Stiles nods, even though Derek can't see him. "And if not, I have enough blackmail material on all of them for making them feel sorry about not being on their best behaviors and making an effort."

Derek snorts, and Stiles can hear the smile on his voice as he talks, "I don't know why people associate themselves with you."

"It's because I'm charming," Stiles says, running his hand over the top of Bunny Yummy's head before setting him back on his nightstand.

"Sure you are," Derek says in a tone that means he's trying to joke but is also kind of serious.

"You know it."

"Do you-," Derek starts, stops, starts again. "Do you think they'll- That everyone-"

"I don't know," Stiles says quietly. "We already know Scott and Isaac know and like each other, but I don't know if everyone will get along. Jackson and Lydia can be a little hard to like, with Jackson sometimes being a dick and Lydia intimidating people by how fucking smart she is. Danny usually charms everyone he meets, so I don't think he'll have a problem doing the same with your friends. Allison is the same way, but…"

"But she's related to Kate," Derek finishes for him, letting out a long breath.

"Yeah, and I don't know if that'll be a problem for the others or not."

Derek stays quiet, most likely thinking about Stiles' words, while Stiles worries at him bottom lip.

They probably should have had this conversation before.

And, you know, not on the night before the opening.

"I don't think it will be," Derek tells him. "They- They know about Allison not having any contact with her, so I don't think they'll worry too much. But I'll talk to them about it. Make sure they know- They know that I'm okay with her being there, and that so should they."

Stiles' lips twitch up in a soft smile at that, "Thanks."

"You don't need to thank me," Derek says, and in a much lighter tone, "And I also have blackmail material of them to last for a lifetime if they decide to create trouble."

Stiles laughs, warm and bright, "Now that's something I'd pay to get my hands on."

"Sorry," Derek says, not sounding sorry at all. "It's not for sale."

"Too bad," Stiles says, and then adds, "But do you think that applies to them, too?"

"What do you mean?" Derek asks slowly, as if fearing Stiles' answer.

"Well," Stiles drawls out. "If I was to ask them to give me something on you, would they refuse?"

Derek doesn't say anything, at the same time his silence telling Stiles everything he needs to know.

"If it makes you feel any better, my friends would do the same thing," Stiles says. "And so would my dad. Probably. But not Scott. Never Scott. Scott's my bro."

Derek snorts, "I'll keep that it in mind that every one of our friends are horrible people."

"That we wouldn't trade for the world."

"Yeah," Derek says quietly. "We wouldn't."

There's not much to be said after that, Stiles and Derek talking a little more about the party and telling each other about their days.

Stiles would think it would be boring to hear someone tell him about fixing cars and dealing with paperwork and complaining about Erica flirting shamelessly with clients while Isaac sneaks out to talk to Cora on the phone, but he kind of likes it.

He likes knowing these little things about him, likes knowing how he's feeling and thinking and doing.

He remembers his parents doing much the same thing, sitting on the dinner table or the couch in the living room, taking interest on each other's lives and what was going on in it and enjoying the other's company.

Stiles has always longed for that, for having someone to do that with, to have that with, that easy kind of companionship.

It seems like he's found it with Derek, and he hopes to hell he gets to keep it.

"We'll talk tomorrow?" Derek asks, sounding a little sleepy.

"We will," Stiles promises. "Until then I'll drive myself crazy thinking about what kind of costume you'll have on."

"Good luck with that," Derek chuckles. "Sounds like a great way to spend your time."

"I'll have you know it most certainly is," Stiles sniffs.

"Good night, Bunny," Derek says, and Stiles has no doubt he's shaking his head at him right now.

"Night, baby. See you tomorrow."

"See you."

Stiles lets out a breath as he ends the call, placing his phone on his nightstand.

He wiggles his toes, stretching his arms over his head and yawning, one hand coming to scratch at the patch of visible skin between the waistband of his sweats and where his shirt has ridden up.

His mind goes back to the flashes of Derek getting himself off, wondering if he's as frustrated as Stiles by all the sex they're _not_ having.

Because as much as Derek is doing this by his own choice, he must be going a little out of his mind with, well, _hornyness_.

Stiles pushes his shirt up, nails scratching lightly at his chest as he does so.

He thinks of Derek doing this, too, the soft touches across his chest and stomach, pushing his shirt even higher up so he can get to his nipples, tracing the nubs with the tips of his fingers, teasing.

Stiles wonders what he thinks about when he's doing this, if it's of Stiles' own hands and lips on him, his mouth tasting and mapping every inch of his body.

He thinks of Derek sliding one hand down his torso much like he's doing right now, stopping at the light trail of hair that leads from his belly button past down the waistband of his pants.

Stiles inches further hooks his thumb under the fabric, tugging it down and squirming in place so his pants now rest halfway down his thigh.

He wishes he knew if Derek also did this, or if he prefered being without any clothing at all, his naked body in direct contact with the cool sheets.

Stiles' cock is half hard in his underwear and the rubs his hand over the length of it, the drag of fabric providing enough friction to make his body tingle.

He's still playing with his nipples with his other hand as he thinks about Derek doing this to himself, taking his time to get himself worked up, to get himself hard, feeling the slow build of pleasure.

It's not until he's completely hard that he stops in favor of ridding himself of his boxers, noticing the small wet patch from where he started leaking, tugging the underwear down until it reaches his pants.

Stiles brings his hand up to his face so he can lick his palm before wrapping his fingers around his dick, too lazy to open one of his drawers to get the lube, settling for swiping his thumb over the slit and spreading precome around his cock.

He thinks about Derek as he does this.

Derek jerking himself off.

Derek with his own hand pumping his dick, the other cupping his balls, one of his fingers inching past them to rub over his hole, tracing the tight ring of muscles as his breath hitches and he speeds the movement of his hand.

Stiles does the same as the images flood his mind, hips thrusting up so he can fuck his own hand as he thinks about Derek.

_Derek_.

Derek sucking one of his own fingers finger into his mouth.

Derek's cheeks hollowing as he releases the digit with a pop, slicked and shiny with spit.

Derek spreading his legs wider, chest glistened with sweat, muscles twitching as he lowers his hand positions his finger where it was before.

Derek's hand on his cock slowing down as he plays with his hole, and then speeding up against when he presses just the tip inside.

Derek's head thrown back and slack with pleasure as he starts fucking himself in and out with his finger, his hand matching up the pace as jerks himself off, as he brings himself closer to come.

Stiles thinks about Derek fucking himself with a finger as he does the exact same thing, wondering if Derek feels as good as Stiles does, if he wants this as much as Stiles does, if he gasps and pants and moans Stiles' name the same way Stiles moans his.

Stiles thinks about all of _that_, wishing it was_ real_, wishing Derek was here with him, watching him, touching him, getting Stiles off with his fingers or letting Stiles get him off doing the same.

Stiles thinks about all of _that_, wishing it was _real_, wishing that when he gets closer and closer to coming, it'd be with Derek's hand on his dick, and Derek's fingers inside him, and Derek over him, all around him, _everywhere_.

Stiles thinks about _that_, wishing it was _real_, wishing that as he throws his head back and spills all over his hand and stomach, it'd be_ Derek_ doing this to him, _Derek_ making him come, _Derek_ making him feel good.

And that it'd be _Derek_'s come covering his skin, and not his own.

Because then this would be sexy, and not gross like Stiles is feeling right now.

And he is way too loose-limbed and fucked out to get up and go take a shower, so the best that can do is pull off his shirt and wipe the jizz off his stomach, hand, and crotch as best as he can before throwing the shirt on the floor and pulling his boxers and pants back up.

And as Stiles gets under the covers and makes himself comfortable, already half-asleep, he hopes to hell it won't take long before Derek is there with him.

Because, really, there's only so much his balls can take before they explode.

And then where wouldn't be the fun in that?


	12. Chapter 12

**a/n**: see the ends notes for the complete costumes list + who suggested what 3

* * *

Stiles isn't nervous.

Really, he isn't.

He's just a bit _preoccupied_.

Because even though he and Derek have known each other for a little over six months now, their circle of friends hasn't really mixed.

Sure, Stiles knows Derek's friends and sisters and Derek knows Stiles' friends, but they haven't all hung out together or anything like that.

Hell, they don't even really _know_ each other, with the exception of Scott and Isaac.

And Danny knowing Boyd, Laura, and Mrs. Hale, but Stiles doesn't really count that one, considering they were _working_ and Boyd had a _head injury_.

So yeah, none of them really know each other, but that's all coming to a head tonight.

You know, since they're all going to be at _Triskele_'s Halloween Opening Party.

And the thing is, Stiles knows he has the best friends he could possibly hope for.

He also knows that the same can be said about Derek's friends and family.

What he_ doesn't know_ is if his friends and Derek's friends will agree on that particular subject.

He doesn't know if they will _like_ each other.

Not that their friends disliking one another will interfere with his feelings for Derek, but it'll definitely cause a strain on their relationship if the people they love most can't get along or can't stand to be around each other.

And Stiles doesn't want that.

He really fucking doesn't.

There's also the matter of Stiles' dad and having no idea if he's going to show up with Mrs. McCall or not.

If he does, Stiles understands it'll be to support Mrs. Hale, and not because he's done waiting to finally meet Derek and is taking matters into his own hands.

Sure, Stiles' dad and Derek will end up being introduced to each other if he comes to the party, there's no avoiding it, but the Sheriff won't make the situation into anything more than what it is.

And by that he means someone opening a new business in town and getting support and recognition for her hard work from people.

At least Stiles hopes so.

For everyone's sake.

Especially Derek's.

So yeah, Stiles is a little worried.

But he's also hoping for the best, that everything will work out, and that nothing too horrible will happen to ruin the opening for Derek's mom and his family.

Not after all the hard work they put into it.

Well, aside from Jackson getting too drunk and maybe doing something embarrassing. That can totally happen. Really. No problems or complaints whatsoever.

At least that's what Stiles is telling himself as he drives over, chewing on his bottom lip.

He and Derek are going to meet at the bar, with Derek having to help his mother make sure everything's set and ready to go before the doors open, and Stiles is supposed to text him when he's close by.

Neither of them know what kind of costume the other will be wearing, and Stiles can't help but wonder what Derek's reaction will be when he sees him.

He hopes it'll involve lots of groping and even more kissing and maybe a little bit of touching below the belt.

Or just lots of Derek's entire face turning red and a little of him stumbling with his words because he doesn't know what to say and even more him giving up or trying to communicate at all and just giving Stiles one of those _looks_ that makes Stiles tingle with warmth from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair.

Stiles is not picky.

And he also can't help but let his mind go crazy with possibilities regarding what Derek will be dressed up as.

He almost ran two red lights on his way there, first too busy with images of how good Derek's ass would look if he went as a baseball player and wore those tight pants, and then of how great Derek's _entire body_ would look if he got his hands on a Captain America jumpsuit.

So Stiles really can't wait to see him, telling him as much when he sends him a quick text at a stoplight letting Derek know he'll be at the bar in a few minutes.

Derek must have his phone in hand, because only a few seconds later Stiles' phone beeps with a new message.

**From: Derek**

_Park by my bike. I'll meet you in the parking lot._

Stiles doesn't think anything about the specific parking instructions until he gets to the bar and takes in the fucking amount of people standing out front.

If he had to take a guess he'd say that every single person who's over legal drinking age and lives in Beacon Hills or somewhere close is present, all in Halloween costumes.

Some more than others, Stiles notices, as a girl with angel wings and something Stiles is pretty sure is actually lingerie and not a shirt walks by his car.

And the thing about having so many people show up is that Stiles can't really see any available parking spaces.

Besides the one by a sleek black bike.

That belongs to Derek.

And that makes Stiles' heart soften as he realizes his boyfriend made sure he'd have somewhere to leave his Jeep.

Stiles makes a mental note to give him extra kisses for that one as he parks, stopping to glance at himself in the rearview mirror and check if his makeup still stands before climbing out of the car.

He can't see Derek anywhere, so he settles for leaning against the driver's door and fishing his phone out of his pocket, sending a mass text to his friends and warning them about the parking situation and suggesting that maybe they should leave their cars a few streets down.

The last thing he wants is have them complain about-

"_Stiles_?"

Stiles' head snaps up.

And it's no one's business but his own if, when he looks up, his lips part and his mouth dries and his heart speeds up.

Along with his dick twitching.

In his very tight pants.

Because Derek's standing right in front of him.

One thing Stiles learned about himself very early on is that he doesn't really find the whole _people in uniform_ thing very hot.

He supposes that has to do with his dad being a cop, Mrs. McCall being a nurse, Scott and Jackson being firefighters, Allison and Lydia being doctors, him and Danny being EMTs, and all of them having to wear uniforms for work.

So he really doesn't know what to do with himself as he stares at Derek.

Who's wearing pinstripe black chef pants.

And a traditional black chef coat with the sleeves folded once.

And looking_ really fucking hot_.

"Hey," Stiles says, swallowing hard. "You look- You look amazing."

Derek doesn't say thank you.

He also doesn't return the compliment.

In fact, he doesn't say anything at all.

He just stares.

At Stiles.

Who looks from Derek to himself and back again and starts thinking that maybe Derek doesn't like his costume as much as Stiles thought he would.

But then Derek takes a step closer.

And he keeps walking until he's right up into Stiles' personal space, bringing a hand up so he can cup Stiles' jaw and trace the black whiskers drawn on Stiles' face with his thumb.

Derek's eyes dance from the black bunny ears perched on the top of Stiles' head to the tight black shirt stretched across his chest, the black leather jacket, down to Stiles' fingerless leather gloves, his even tighter leather pants, the biker boots.

He shakes his head.

And smiles.

It's small at first, just a minute twitch of lips Stiles might have missed if he didn't have his eyes glued to Derek's face.

But it widens.

Little by little.

Like Derek's trying to keep himself from grinning but is failing spectacularly at it.

Not that he looks like he minds, as his eyes crinkle in the corners and his teeth peek out from behind his lips.

"So," Stiles says quietly, looking at him from under his lashes. "What do you think?"

"I think," Derek starts, eyes zeroing on Stiles' mouth. "I think I need to do something first."

Derek's still smiling when he kisses him, which makes Stiles grin in return, their teeth clinking together before they pull back and try again.

Not that it works much better the second time around, but Stiles doesn't care.

Not when Derek breaks the kiss and hums low in his throat, their foreheads pressed together, their breaths mingling as they breathe.

And definitely not when he mutters, "I can't believe you dressed up as your plush bunny toy."

Stiles doesn't really believe it either, if he's being honest.

But when he took one look at Bunny Yummy wearing biker gear and sitting on his nightstand, it felt like he had the answer to all of his costume problems.

Stiles leans back a little, just enough so he can stare at Derek's face without going crosseyed, and asks, "But do you like it?"

And then it happens.

Derek _blushes_.

From the tips of his ears to his cheeks and down his neck.

Stiles doesn't even wait for an answer before he's kissing him again.

They take about another ten minutes to disentangle themselves from each other and walk towards the bar, Derek with an arm thrown over Stiles' shoulders and Stiles with one wrapped around Derek's waist.

Stiles has to say it feels pretty fucking great to head straight to the door and have the bouncer just tilt his head in acknowledgement at them before letting them in, the people waiting in line glaring holes into their backs.

And as Stiles lets his eyes sweep over the bar, he thinks he shouldn't be as surprised as he is.

And by that he means surprised at the route the Hales took in decorating the space.

He honestly should have expected something like this to happen when he texted Derek about the rumors going around town that _Triskele_ was either a torture chamber or, well, a _sexy_ torture chamber.

Because that's exactly what this place looks like, with chains hanging from the walls and ceilings with open cuffs attached to the end of them, the blood splatters and stains on the walls and floor, the tables covered with plastic transparent sheets, and the low lights illuminating everything with an eerie yellow glow.

Oh, and also because of the guy walking around in a black rubber jumpsuit, mask and all.

"Please tell me that's no one we know," Stiles says, closing his eyes. "This night is not supposed to traumatize me _that_ way."

Derek snorts, "I'm sure that whatever our friends have in store for us won't include alluding things about their own sex lives."

Stiles groans, dropping his head on Derek's shoulder.

"That's because they'll be too busy talking about ours, isn't it?"

Stiles feels Derek's body tensing against his, and when he lifts his head up to look at him is to see Derek's happy and relaxed expression dimmed a little.

Stiles remembers Derek told him he didn't want them to take their relationship to the next level while Stiles didn't know everything about Kate, but aside from having that first conversation about taking things slow, they haven't really talked about sex now that things changed between them.

Which is something Stiles had no idea was in Derek's mind, something he worried about, assuming they'd just take a while to feel comfortable around each other again before doing anything.

One would think Stiles would have learned not to assume anything by now.

And figures they'd be having this conversation _now_, at Derek's _mother_'s bar, where all of their friends will be, or already are, at.

Stiles uses his hold on Derek's waist to drag him to an empty corner at the bar, not that the place is that crowded just yet, so they can speak without having to yell to be overheard over the music playing in the background.

Derek goes without protest, body still stiff, but Stiles thinks it's a good sign he didn't try to put any distance between them.

"Okay," Stiles says once they're away from prying ears. "Talk to me."

Derek's jaw works as he pointedly stares at floor, shifting in place as he thinks about how he's going to tell Stiles whatever it is that's going through his head.

Stiles waits, used to giving Derek time, and is rewarded by Derek taking a deep breath and letting it out, body loosening a bit as he swallows and looks up at Stiles.

Or at the chain hanging just behind Stiles' left ear.

"I don't-," Derek starts, mouth opening and closing a few times before he keeps going. "We never- You know about how it was. With her. And that I still- I feel- It's not that I don't want to do anything or that I'm not attracted to you, because I do and I am. I just need some time to-," and Derek looks at him straight in the face. "I need some time to get to a place where I know I'll enjoy it. Where I know I won't overthink it or worry about it or treat it like it's some sort of test."

Stiles' lips curl up at their own accord, eyes softening at as stares right back at Derek.

Because this means a lot, having Derek tell him he's not ready for something instead of doing it just because he thinks it's what Stiles wants or expects of him.

The familiar anger also makes itself known, Stiles wishing once more he could get his hands on Kate and wring her fucking neck for making Derek feel like this.

"What I said on our first date about doing this as fast or as slow as you'd like still stands," Stiles tells him, both hands resting on Derek's hip. "You know I like spending time with you, orgasms included or not."

Nevermind the only orgasms Stiles had since he met Derek were by his own hand.

"Classy," Derek mumbles under his breath, the tips of his ears reddening when Stiles just grins at him.

"And I appreciate you talking to me about it," Stiles lowers his voice, squeezing Derek's hip. "I don't want there to be any misunderstandings between us."

They've had enough of those, in Stiles' opinion.

And it's good to know that communication problems are something they won't have anymore.

Or that at least that they're getting better at handling them, talking to each other and listening when the other has something to say.

Derek nods, leaning in close.

"I'm working on it."

And Stiles knows Derek means more than just working on speaking his mind, that_ working on it_ extends to all of his issues brought on by his involvement with Kate.

But he's not the only person in this relationship, not the only one who needs to make an effort.

"We're both working on it," Stiles whispers, pressing his lips against Derek's.

The kiss is slow at first, Derek's hands framing Stiles' face and nails scratching lightly at the back of his neck; and then Stiles gets his arm around Derek's waist and pulls him flush against his body, teeth nipping at Derek's bottom lip as he waits for Derek to open up for him.

Which Derek does, moaning softly at the first brush of Stiles' tongue against his and making Stiles a little weak in the knees as he swallows back the sound with his lips.

"If I knew you two would go to the first dark corner you saw and make out, I wouldn't have invited you."

Stiles doesn't startle.

He also doesn't let out a yelp.

And he definitely does _not_ get his bunny ears tangled up in the chain hanging behind him.

No matter how much Laura laughs at him for it.

"You didn't invite us," Derek says, glaring at her.

Not that it works much, with her being_ Laura_ and Derek_ blushing_ as he does so.

"You two should still know better than to start sucking face before making the rounds and saying hi to everyone."

"Hi, Laura," both Derek and Stiles say at the same time, earning a smirk from her.

"Now that's better," Laura says, and turns her attention to Stiles, eyes sweeping up and down his body before they stop on Stiles' black bunny ears. "There's a cute and disgusting reason that I probably don't want to know for you to be dressed as a biker bunny, isn't there?"

It's Stiles' turn to blush, but he's glad when Laura just wrinkles her nose up at him and doesn't call him on it.

"At least he's not telling everyone he's dressed as Wonder Woman because that's the only costume who shows people how fucking _wonderful_ he is," Derek snaps back at her.

And Stiles tries not to find Derek coming to his defense adorable.

He doesn't succeed.

"People should recognize my wonderfulness," Laura sniffs.

"I think you look beautiful," Stiles offers, because he does.

Laura looks amazing in her Wonder Woman costume, with the tight red bodice and golden belt accentuating her waist, the blue shorts with white stars showing off her thighs, the knee-high red with a white stripe boots, and her dark hair fanning over her shoulders and the golden crown in her head.

"Thank you," Laura smiles at him, genuinely pleased, before turning to Derek with narrowed eyes. "It's good to know at least _someone_ appreciates me."

Derek rolls his eyes at her, and Stiles can see by the slight twitch of Laura's lips that she's not bothered by his behavior.

As far as Stiles can tell, this kind of think is common when dealing with these two.

"Do you know where everyone is?" Derek asks her, taking one of Stiles' hands in his and lacing their fingers together.

"Why? Want to get to them before I get a chance to tell them what you two were up to?" Laura wiggles her eyebrows at them. "Because I'm going to do that anyway."

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out an annoyed breath, while Stiles tries to cover his smile by pressing his face against Derek's shoulder.

"Laura," Derek says testily, to which his sisters just huffs.

"Cora and Boyd are managing the bar, which means Isaac and Erica are nearby, mom's walking around playing host, and Uncle Peter is probably off somewhere hitting on college kids who don't know any better."

Stiles raises his eyebrows at the last comment, stomach churning a little with nerves at knowing Derek's uncle is here and Stiles is going to meet him at some point.

He suddenly wishes his friends were already here, so that way he could be called an idiot for feeling anxious about this and told to get himself together and not to worry.

By the completely flat look Derek's aiming at Laura, he also doesn't appreciate the comment.

"We're gonna go now," Derek says, tugging at Stiles' hand.

Derek stops to give her a kiss on the cheek when they walk by, and Stiles doesn't miss the _you look beautiful_ Derek mutters to her.

The look on Laura's face at that is pure smug, Stiles winking at her and getting a wave in return before he and Derek disappear into the crowd.

Stiles' phone buzzes in his pocket before they get to the bar, Stiles fishing it out and seeing he has a new text from Danny letting him know him and Ethan are already there.

Derek frowns at him in question, to which Stiles tells him what's going on.

"Tell them to meet us at the bar?"

Stiles nods, typing out a reply as they continue making their way past all the people standing around, drinking and talking.

Cora and Boyd are easy to spot, mostly because Stiles knows they're the ones behind the counter, serving people drinks and making sure everyone has what they want. He doesn't see Isaac anywhere, maybe because his costume gets in the way, but can see the top of Erica's head, the fact that she's sitting down making it hard for him to see what she's dressed up as.

That is until Boyd catches Derek's eye and tilts his chin up at him, Erica turning around to follow her boyfriend's gaze, only to promptly get up from her stool and wave a hand at them.

Stiles doesn't even try and pretend not to be impressed with her costume.

Which is why the first thing out of his mouth when they stop by the counter is, "I don't think I've ever seen a cat as gorgeous as you."

Erica grins at him, all sharp teeth and red lips, "You like?"

Stiles nods, taking in her skin tight black jumpsuit and the leather boots, her hands covered in black gloves and resting just above her utility belt, the eye mask covering half of her face and the cat ears perched on top of her head.

"Are you kidding me? You look perfect."

Erica beams, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight before letting go.

"I should, too. This Catwoman get up wasn't cheap."

"Good thing it was Peter who paid for it," Boyd pipes up, getting Stiles' attention.

Only to have him gasp.

And then have Derek's hand covering his mouth before he can say anything to Boyd.

"Whatever it is that you're thinking of saying or singing, don't," Derek says against his ear, voice low.

Stiles just widens his eyes at Derek, going back to stare at Boyd.

Who's in white basketball shorts and a white jersey.

A white jersey with the words TuneSquad written in front of it in blue.

Erica leans against Stiles' side, whispering, "He's watering the drinks of anyone who comes up and asks him if he's going to _shake it, quake it, space kaboom_ tonight. So no matter how good you think your joke is, I wouldn't risk it."

Stiles presses his lips together before licking a stripe up Derek's palm, swallowing when Derek drops his hand.

"Boyd," Stiles starts, and at Boyd's blank look and jaw ticking he says, "I've heard some rumors about bat brownies."

Boyd's lips curl up in a faint smile, as if he's grateful for Stiles not commenting about the fact that he's dressed as Michael Jordan in Space Jam.

Stiles doesn't know why that is, because it's a fucking _great_ costume as far as Stiles is concerned.

"I'll see what I can do," Boyd tells him, giving him a nod before going back to work.

"Erica," Stiles turns to her as Boyd goes to the other end of the bar. "Please tell me you'll make fun of him later."

Erica stares at him for a beat or two with a blank face before she smirks, reaching out a hand to pat Stiles in the cheek, "It's like you're in my head."

Derek shakes his head at both of them, "Boyd doesn't deserve this. He's a good person."

"Says the guy who told him to_ wave his hands in the air if he felt fine_," Erica says, raising an eyebrow at him.

Derek blushes to the tips of his ears and down to his neck.

And Stiles bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking as he imagines Derek singing that to Boyd and the utterly unimpressed look Boyd must have given him.

His laugh gets cut off by someone calling his name, Stiles turning around to see Danny making his way to where they are, Ethan by his side.

Stiles nerves come back at full force, and he can feel Derek shifting against his side, leaning into him and rubbing his thumb over the back of Stiles' hand.

Because this is it.

This is where it starts, their friends meeting for the first time and getting to know each other.

"Hey, guys," Stiles says, giving Danny a quick hug and clapping Ethan on the shoulder.

Both Danny and Ethan shake Derek's other hand, Danny giving Derek an encouraging smile and telling him is good to see him again.

Stiles feels a sudden rush of affection towards Danny, knowing Danny's still a little bit wary of how things went down that time at dinner but trying to make Derek feel comfortable around him anyway.

Because he knows Stiles loves him and that Derek is important to him.

Derek gives him a somewhat awkward smile in return, but Stiles can tell he means it, with how he's the one who steps up and introduces Erica to them, saying, "And I apologize for any and all inappropriate comments she makes to either of you."

"Oh," Danny says, smiling widely at Erica before she can close the distance between them and throttle Derek. "Just like Stiles then."

Erica barks out a surprised laugh, Stiles gaping at Danny and clutching at his imaginary pearls, while Derek and Ethan shake their heads at the three of them.

"Stiles," Erica says, grinning as she leans against him. "I think I like your friends."

Stiles blinks at her, his heart stuttering in relief at having her say that.

He doesn't show it, though.

"You should," Stiles sniffs. "I have the best of friends."

Danny rolls his eyes at him, but still punches Stiles lightly in the shoulder in a silent thanks.

"And I can see you decided to make the dreams of old ladies come true," Stiles says, eyeing Danny's costume up and down.

"I figured it was too chilly to come as a hawaiian prince, so Prince Charming had to do," Danny says, gesturing at his clothes.

He's wearing a tight white tailcoat with gold fringed epaulettes, a red sash, a pair of_ very tight_ royal blue pants, and he looks _dream worthy_, if Stiles does say so himself.

"And with Ethan as your knight?" Stiles asks, eyeing Ethan's costume and smiling goofily at Danny when he nods.

Stiles can't help it.

It's too cute.

Even though Ethan's knight costume is on the sexier side, with his gray tunic having a hood and net sleeves.

Sleeves that do a great job in showing off his muscles.

Especially when he grabs his fake sword and points it at the chest of someone guy who stops by the bar and stands a little bit too close to Danny for his taste.

"God, you two are cute," Erica says, wrinkling her nose when the guy raises his hands in surrender and walks away, Ethan lowering his sword and kissing Danny on the cheek before turning back to them.

"Thank you," both Ethan and Danny say, beaming at her.

"Just don't make out in front of the bar," Boyd appears behind Erica, drinks in hand. "Royalty or not, I'll be forced to remove you," and with a look directed at Stiles and Derek he says, "And the same goes for you two."

Stiles makes a face at Boyd while Derek just stares at him with a look on his face that screams _betrayal_, the tips of his ears turning red again.

Boyd ignores them in favor of handing Danny and Ethan drinks before extending a hand, "I'm Boyd."

To which Erica pipes up, "And he's mine," a smug smile on her face.

Ethan nods approvingly at Erica, while Danny just flashes his dimples at Boyd, tells him he likes his costume, and asks him how he's doing.

Boyd seems a bit surprised at having Danny remember how they met, but soon his look transforms into one of happiness as he tells Danny he's doing great.

You know, as happy as Boyd ever appears to be at someone who's not Erica.

Conversation flows easily after that, with Erica asking Danny and Ethan about their lives, offering up information about hers, and all of them trading stories about Derek and Stiles and what life was like before they met.

Stiles doesn't even think to try and protest about Danny telling Erica about all the pranks he pulled when they were in training together, mostly because Erica is laughing as Danny does so, face bright and flushed, while Boyd's lips tilt up in a smirk in a way that would make Stiles uneasy if he wasn't feeling so fucking great about all of this.

And him not protesting also has nothing to do with Erica telling them about Derek and Boyd's adventures in cooking as soon as Boyd gets called to serve more drinks.

Really.

It doesn't.

Seeing Erica, Boyd, Danny, and Ethan get along so well leaves Stiles with a warm feeling in his chest as he drops Derek's hand in favor of snuggling up against Derek's side, knowing that it will help a lot when his other friends get here to see that Danny has already passed judgement and decided Derek's friends are good people.

Especially when his phone buzzes with an incoming message from Lydia, telling him she's coming with Jackson and that they're about five minutes away.

Derek looks down at him in silent question when he sees Stiles with his phone in hand, to which Stiles replies, "Jackson and Lydia will be here in a few," and then adds, "And Erica will have someone to trade inappropriate jokes with."

Derek blinks at him a couple of times before muttering, "Fuck."

Stiles nods.

"We didn't think this through, did we?"

Derek shakes his head before pressing his lips together and staring at Stiles, "We can always go home and tell them we couldn't find them in the crowd."

"If you do, I'll tell mom."

Stiles wonders if it's a Hale trait to sneak up on people and scare them to death, and he even goes as far as opening his mouth to ask Derek about it.

Only to snap it back shut as he sees Cora and Isaac behind the bar.

Stiles must stare at them for a little too long, snapping out of it when Danny extends a hand over the counter and introduces himself.

"Sorry for Stiles' lack of manners," Danny says with a smile. "I'm Danny, his partner. And this is my boyfriend, Ethan."

Both Isaac and Cora say their hellos, while Stiles just continues to _stare_.

Until Cora raises an eyebrow at him and says, "I'm going to punch you in the face."

In his defense, though, it's not every Halloween party he sees someone dressed as they are.

Stiles shakes his head at her, opening and closing his mouth a few times before saying, "I'm sorry, but- I don't- You- And-," he shakes his head again, licking his lips before gesturing at them, "This is the best couples costume _ever_."

And it fucking _is_, okay.

All he can think of as he stares at Cora dressed in tunic that looks like a bread slice with jelly smeared on it and Isaac also dressed in a bread-like tunic slice but with peanut butter spread over it is that this is the single best thing he's ever witnessed in his life.

Because together they make a PB&J sandwich and that is so perfect Stiles thinks his eyes might be watering a little.

And the smile that breaks across Isaac's face at that makes him look about five years old, especially with the way he puffs out his chest, like having someone say that to him is the best thing he's heard all day.

He realizes it probably is when Cora directs a narrowed glance at both Erica and Derek and says, "It's good to know at least _someone_ appreciates it."

Stiles startles a little at how she sounds _exactly_ like Laura, albeit a grumpier version.

"And it's good to know how _lame_ Stiles is," Erica rolls her eyes at Cora, turning to Derek. "Seriously, Derek. If your boyfriend thinks_ that_," she points to Cora and Isaac, "and not _this_," and then to Danny and Ethan, "is a good idea for a couples costume, then I'm afraid for your future."

"You shouldn't," Danny pipes up. "Knowing Stiles, he'll have Derek dressed up in something embarrassing in no time."

Stiles glares at Danny while Erica, Cora, and Isaac look elated at the prospect of that happening.

Derek just gives Danny and Ethan, Cora and Isaac a very pointed look and says, "I think we have different definitions of what's embarrassing."

There are a few tense seconds of silence at that, Derek's body tensing as he wonders if he went too far, before they all burst out laughing.

Stiles turns to grin at Derek just in time to see him ducking his head, his lips curling up in a little pleased smile at making them laugh.

Stiles doesn't even think about it before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, enjoying the way Derek's head snaps up and his gaze softens as the same time his cheeks flush.

They turn back to find their friends staring at them, but Stiles refuses to be embarrassed about being affectionate with Derek in public.

Not that he needs to worry about that when everyone's attention turn to the two people approaching them.

One can never say Lydia Martin doesn't know how to make an entrance.

She looks absolutely stunning as she walks up to them in a flowy white toga with a slit on the left side that shows off her leg up to mid-thigh as she walks, the golden bands around her upper arms glinting in the low light, her hair done up with loose curls spilling over her shoulder and framing her face.

"You look like a goddess," is the first thing out of Stiles' mouth when she gets within ear shot.

"That's because I am one," Lydia arches an eyebrow at him, glossed lips forming a small smile as she leans in to kiss him on the cheek. "Athena, to be more precise."

When Lydia turns to greet Derek it's with a look in her eyes that, if Stiles didn't know better, would mean she knows exactly why Derek reacted the way that he did last time they met.

But Stiles guesses that's Lydia for you, with her ability to take one look at a person and make them think she knows everything there is to know about them and their lives.

And it says something about the kind of people Derek has as his friends that he doesn't even bat an eye when Lydia eyes him up and down before saying, "It's good to see you, Derek," her lips twitching minutely.

"You too," Derek says, sounding a little nervous but still like he means it.

It probably helps to have Stiles plastered against his side, something Stiles thinks Lydia might have considered before greeting everyone.

You know, observing how Stiles and Derek are interacting in public to see if everything's as great as Stiles keeps telling them it is.

Danny takes up introducing Lydia to the others, Erica and Lydia eyeing each other warily before smiling and trading compliments on the other's costume, Boyd giving her a small smile and a nod of his head, Isaac waving his fingers at her before going back to twirling strand of Cora's head between them, and Cora tilting her head to the side as if considering if Lydia is worthy of her time before smiling faintly.

Stiles breathes a sigh of relief.

So far so good.

Until he turns his head a little to the side to tell Derek as much and, "And who are _you_ supposed to be?"

Jackson glowers as he walks the final steps up to them.

He pointedly stops by Danny's side instead of Lydia's, and Stiles fights the urge to look skyward and ask for strength at now knowing they're probably fighting again.

He should have realized it when Lydia came up to them alone, but he can't be blamed for being distracted by Lydia's entrance.

She looks fucking _gorgeous_.

And Stiles has Derek Hale in a chef's costume for a boyfriend.

"He kind of looks like Jack Dawson," Cora says, blinking at him.

And no one is more surprised than Stiles when they all hear Lydia snort, bringing a hand up to her lips as if she didn't mean for it to come out.

Jackson looks incredibly offended at Cora's comment, and even more angry at having Lydia laugh at him, his jaw clenching as his hands curl into fists, "I am _not_ Jack Dawson. This doesn't even remotely _looks_ like a Jack Dawson costume."

"It kind of does," Stiles, Erica, Isaac, Ethan, and Derek say at the same time.

Jackson's eye twitches.

Cora presses her lips together as if trying not to laugh.

And Lydia just sits on a stool and accepts the drink Boyd brings for her when he appears again, staring at everyone as if this is the best thing that's ever happened to her.

"Well, it's _not_," Jackson sulks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Then _what is it_?" Stiles asks, enjoying Jackson's anger at everyone way too much.

Like usual.

He wouldn't be who he is if he didn't take every opportunity to be a dick to Jackson seriously.

Jackson mumbles an answer, voice drawn out by the low music and sounds of people talking around them or calling for drinks.

"What was that?" Stiles asks sweetily, glancing at Lydia in time to see her trying to hide her smile against the rim of her glass.

And suddenly he's feeling all kinds of gleeful about this, because if Lydia is trying not to laugh about what Jackson is dressed up as, then it means it's something r_eally fucking embarrassing_.

Jackson mumbles something again, voice still too low for any of them to hear.

"I still can't hear you," Stiles sniffs, pressing his lips together and trying to keep a straight face.

He doesn't succeed.

Danny lets out a sigh, clasping Jackson in the shoulder, "C'mon, man. You know Stiles is too much of an asshole to let this go. Just answer him."

"He's an asshole alright," Jackson says, glaring at Stiles.

Who glares right back.

And totally misses the glint in Erica's eyes until she opens her mouth and says, "That's good. Because Derek sure knows how to be a di-"

Stiles makes a mental note to give whatever present Isaac wants for Christmas, because he's never been as grateful to someone as he is right now, as Isaac slaps a hand over Erica's mouth and cuts off her sentence.

Not that it makes much of a difference, with how Jackson is sniggering and staring at Erica like he just found his new best friend.

Erica notices him looking and gives him a wink.

Stiles rests his head against Derek's shoulder and tries to smother himself with his chef coat, not that he succeeds much.

And when he lifts his head up is to see Derek's gone pink, his eyes darting from Isaac to Erica, expression going from gratefulness to_ I'll shave your eyebrows while you sleep_.

Everyone else is staring at both Jackson and Erica like they can't quite believe this is happening.

And Stiles would find it funny when the awful sense of realization sets in that Erica and Jackson now know each other and can join forces to gross everyone out with their horrible innuendos if he wasn't so busy regretting everything that's lead him to this moment.

That is, until Derek turns his head to rest his forehead against Derek's temple and whisper, "We can still run if we want to."

"As entertaining as those few seconds were," Lydia chimes in, eyes sparkling as she raises an eyebrow at Jackson. "You still haven't told them what your costume is."

Stiles gave up trying to understand how the dynamics of Lydia and Jackson's relationship work, but he can honestly say there's no one else who can quite irritate him as much as she can.

And heavens know Stiles tried.

Jackson scowls, lips pressed together, his eyes raking everywhere but the stool where Lydia is sitting.

"I'm Noah," he says, glaring at the ground.

Stiles blinks.

So do the rest of them, with the exception of Lydia and Danny.

Lydia just smiles, obviously pleased with herself.

Danny looks a little bit concerned, but Stiles can see by the barely there smirk on his face that he's trying not to show how amused he is by all of this.

"Noah," Cora repeats, staring blankly at him.

"Who's Noah?" Derek ducks to whisper against Stiles' ear, at the same time Isaac asks the question out loud.

"The guy from _The Notebook_," Boyd is the one who answers, shrugging when everyone turns to look at him. "It's obvious."

Cora, Isaac, Erica, and Ethan turn to Jackson, brows furrowed as they consider him.

He's wearing gray slacks secured with a skinny belt, a brown button down shirt thrown under a flannel jacket, and an ascot hat on head, looking exactly like a more polished version of Noah from The Notebook.

It is kind of obvious, after having someone point it out to them who he's supposed to be.

And it's also the reason why Stiles' shoulders start shaking with restrained laughter.

Because this is _awesome_.

And aside from Danny and Lydia, he's the only one who knows why that is.

The only one who can appreciate what it means for Jackson to come to a costume party dressed as the guy from _The Notebook_.

"You're Ryan Gosling," Stiles says in a strangled voice, biting down on his bottom lip. "You- I- You're someone from _The Notebook_."

Derek and his friends turn to stare at Stiles in confusion, not knowing what's so funny about having Jackson dressed as he is.

"Shut up," Jackson snaps, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"What's the big deal?" Isaac asks, raising both eyebrows when Jackson turns to glare at him.

"It's Lydia's favorite movie," Stiles answers, lips twitching up despite himself.

Cora snorts in disgust, making a face when Lydia turns to her with narrowed eyes.

"You dressed as a character from her favorite movie," Isaac says slowly, obviously enjoying Jackson's discomfort.

Stiles thinks Isaac might be his favorite.

"I think it's sweet," Erica chimes in, grinning.

And totally oblivious to the way Jackson's face flushes in anger at her comment.

Danny groans, dropping his forehead against Ethan's shoulder, because he knows that's about the worst thing anyone could ever say to Jackson.

Or, to be honest, just really acknowledge that he's somewhat of a good person who has feelings and cares about things and people.

Which must be the reason why Lydia is so set on having everyone know what Jackson did in regards of his costume.

"It's not _sweet_," Jackson bristles, but before he can say anything else Lydia interrupts.

"It's really not."

There are a few tense seconds where Jackson and Lydia make eye contact, Derek's friends and Ethan eyeing the couple in interest, while Stiles and Danny look at each other and roll their eyes.

Derek just ducks his head again so he can ask, "Should we be worried or is this normal for them?"

"As long as Lydia doesn't start throwing anything, we're good," Stiles answers, and then adds, "Do you think Boyd would give me some of those brownies now? I like food with my entertainment."

Derek snorts, breath ghosting over the shell of Stiles' ear.

"You're a horrible friend."

"Lucky for you, I'm an awesome boyfriend."

Derek shakes his head, dropping a kiss behind Stiles' ear and making him shiver, before turning back to watch Lydia and Jackson's staring contest.

Not that there's much to see.

You know, considering that as soon as Jackson opens his mouth to say something, Laura appears.

And not just appears, but flops down on a stool by Erica's side, the first thing out of her mouth being, "I'm Derek's older sister and the fountain of all embarrassing stories you could ever hear about him. Nice to meet you all."

"Fucking hell, Laura," Derek swears scrubbing a hand over his face as Laura beams at him.

At the same time Erica starts cackling Boyd lets out a sigh and gets a look on his face that says he's tired of everyone's shit, Isaac smirks at Derek and winks at Laura, while Cora gives Derek a sympathetic look but makes no moves to come to his defense.

Lydia's eyes flash appreciatively as she looks at Laura, Danny and Ethan staring at her with both eyebrows raised and smiles on his lips, while Jackson looks like he's in awe of her.

Stiles' stomach churns at how perfect everything is going.

"How embarassing are we talking about?" Jackson asks, because _of course_ he does.

Jackson wouldn't be who he is either if he didn't hold on to any and all opportunities to get information he can use against Stiles later.

"Boyd," Stiles says before Laura can answer, clapping once. "How about those bats?"

For a second Stiles thinks Boyd will ignore his cry for help, but when he and Derek share a glance and Derek gives him the most miserable look he can muster Boyd nods.

"Are you guys good being left alone with each other?" Stiles asks as he and Derek make their way behind the counter, stomach turning into knots at the prospect of having their friends interacting without him to mediate.

"Oh, we're gonna be fine," Jackson answers, sidestepping Danny and Ethan so he can get closer to Laura. "I'm sure Laura has a lot of interesting stories to keep us entertained."

Laura blinks at Jackson once before letting her lips stretch into a positively _evil _smile, "I don't know where Stiles found you, but I think I'm going to keep you."

Lydia looks a bit miffed at that comment.

Until Erica butts in and says, "As long as I can keep Lydia for fashion advice and tips on how to achieve world domination."

Stiles bites on his lower lip to keep himself from telling Erica she can have whoever the fuck she wants for avoiding a Laura and Lydia smackdown, sharing a look with Derek instead.

"This is going way too well," is all Derek says, sounding equal parts hopeful and skeptical.

Because now Lydia and Erica are talking in hushed whispers about things that will probably come to bite Stiles in the ass later, while Laura and Jackson snicker and talk about things that will _definitely_ come bite Stiles _and_ Derek in the ass later, and Danny, Ethan, Cora, and Isaac talk about things that don't involve Stiles and Derek at all because they're good people and Stiles likes them.

Well, most of them.

He's not that sure about Cora just yet.

Stiles nods, "Can we agree on go eat treats and worry about what this means for our future together later?"

Derek's entire face twitches at the words _our future together_, and Stiles can't help but feel his heart flip in his chest at the way Derek's lips curl up in a soft smile.

"Yes, we can."

"Good, because I have to go back to work and you two aren't being fast enough," Boyd interrupts them, pushing the door that leads to the kitchen in the back and ushering them inside.

Stiles feels about five seconds of happiness and excitement at knowing he doesn't have to dream about eating any of Boyd's baked goods again - those cupcakes were _amazing_, okay? - before it all comes crashing down as he spots someone standing in the middle of the kitchen.

That someone being Derek's mom.

Who Stiles would say is dressed exactly like all the other times he's seen her - in black stilettos, a long skirt, and a blouse -, you know, if it wasn't for the additional red contact lenses making her eyes almost glow.

And also the yellow sharp claws for nails she's using to cut through a black cupcake paper cup.

Stiles isn't scared of her.

Really.

He isn't.

No matter the look Boyd and Derek send his way when he just stands there and doesn't take another step into the room.

Mrs. Hale is oblivious to them, focusing on getting rid of the paper cup without messing with the frosting and the little spider on top of it.

That is, until the door slams shut behind them, drowning out the sounds of the bar.

"Boys," Mrs. Hale smiles at Derek and Boyd when she looks up before turning her attention to Stiles. "Hello, Stiles. I'm glad you could make it."

"Wouldn't miss it, Mrs. Hale. And thank you for the invitations," Stiles offers her a shaky smile in return. "And nice costume. Werewolf?"

"_Alpha_ werewolf," Derek supplies, sounding kind of proud in his mom's behalf.

Stiles thinks it's adorable.

"It was nothing, Stiles," she says, eyes glinting. "You here to steal some of the treats?"

"If you haven't eaten them all first," Derek looks pointedly at the cupcake in her hand.

Stiles wonders if rolling their eyes so hard they almost fall out of their sockets is a Hale trait.

He thinks it might be, just after the whole sneaking up on people deal.

"Don't start with me," Mrs. Hale says, ponting a clawed fingernail at him.

Boyd walks past them and to one of the closed boxes on top of the counter, grabbing a few napkins and placing the bat brownies over it.

Stiles practically salivates as Boyd hands them to him and Derek, not even caring at the sounds he makes when he takes the first bite.

"Derek," Stiles says, swallowing. "How mad would you be at me if I married Boyd?"

Boyd smiles that ghost of a smile at Stiles, while Mrs. Hale chuckles at him.

Derek just raises an eyebrow and says, "You should be asking how mad _Erica_ would be."

Stiles blinks at him.

And thinks about how Erica is now talking to Lydia, who knows so much about Stiles she could pretty much ruin his life by uttering a single word.

The dejected look he gives the half-eaten brownie in his hand must be pretty impressive, because Boyd walks up to him and rests a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"I have a feeling I'll be stressed a lot these next couple of weeks," Boyd eyes, eyeing Mrs. Hale.

Who just grins at him before taking a huge bite of her cupcake.

"I think I should say I'm sorry," Stiles tells Boyd, still staring down at the brownie. "But this is too good for me to care."

He then bites off the other wing, chewing and giving Boyd a close-lipped smile when he lets out a sigh and shakes his head.

"Don't let your boyfriend or your mother eat all of my food," Boyd tilts his chin at Derek. "I promised the others they could have something after we close down."

Derek glances from Stiles to Mrs. Hale, pressing his lips together.

"I'll try my best."

Boyd rolls his eyes at him, waving at Mrs. Hale before opening the door and walking back to the bar.

It takes Stiles a few seconds to notice him and Derek are now alone with Derek's mother, too busy tasting the brownie and being amazed at how fucking _good_ it is.

When he does, though, he's surprised to find she's smiling softly at them, her arms crossed over her chest and red eyes taking in how Stiles and Derek are practically glued to each other's sides.

Stiles feels his face heat.

It's not that he has a problem with being affectionate with Derek in public.

He's pretty sure that making out with him in the park, and at the movies, and at the bar's parking lot, and_ inside_ the bar makes that clear.

But there's something about doing that in front of someone's parent - or his, really - that leaves Stiles feeling embarrassed.

Maybe it has to do with how much his own father enjoyed making fun of him for it whenever he caught Stiles parking or making out with someone on their couch.

And Derek doesn't help with the situation, actually going ahead and snaking an arm around Stiles' waist.

Not that Stiles thinks Derek _realizes_ there's a situation.

In fact, he looks to be enjoying it all, with the way he's staring back at his mom with a soft look on his face.

As if trying to tell and show her that he's okay, that are good, that he's _happy_.

Stiles blushes even deeper at that, trying to keep the pleased smile from showing on his face.

He doesn't think he succeeds much.

Not when Mrs. Hale grins at him.

And says, "It's good to see you two together."

Derek turns to look at Stiles, and Stiles' breath hitches at how much he can see in Derek's eyes in that moment.

"It's good to be together," Derek says lowly, eyes crinkling at the corners and the tips of his ears turning red as he ducks his head a little, embarrassed.

"Yeah," Stiles says, swallowing hard. "It is."

Derek looks up at him from under his lashes, fingers squeezing Stiles' hips.

The moment is broken when Cora comes bursting in, looking flushed and sweaty and a little bit angry.

For a second Stiles thinks something might have gone terribly wrong with his friends, but that gets pushed aside when Cora rounds on her mother.

"I can't believe you're in here," Cora narrows her eyes at the cupcake paper cups on the counter. "_Eating_."

Mrs. Hale just raised an eyebrow at her, as if daring Cora to continue.

Cora must realize she's being out of line, because she's fast to apologize.

"Sorry, mom. But there are people looking for you and wondering where you are. They all want to congratulating you on doing _such a wonderful job on this place_."

Stiles can tell by the way Cora's eyebrows twitch that she's fighting the urge to roll her eyes at that, but Mrs. Hale simply nods at her and says, "I'll be right there."

"She's right, Mrs. Hale," Stiles says when Cora turns around and gets back to the bar. "The place looks amazing."

"Thank you, Stiles," she says, red eyes glowing. "I don't know if Derek told you, but it was you who gave me the idea to set up everything as it is."

Stiles turns to Derek, brows furrowed in confusion as he wonders what he could have done to-

"Oh my _god_," Stiles gasps. "The _texts_."

More precisely, the ones Stiles sent Derek telling him about the rumors going around town.

Derek presses his lips together, which does _nothing_ to keep Stiles from knowing he wants to laugh at Stiles' horror.

You know, considering the way Derek's chest is shaking and Stiles can feel it against his side.

Mrs. Hale is grinning widely at him, looking so fucking _smug_ Stiles doesn't even know how to deal with it.

"Well, I better get going," she tells them, stopping by them to kiss Derek on the cheek and give Stiles' arm a squeeze. "And Stiles, I like your costume too."

She says that with a hint of sadness in her tone, and when Stiles looks back at Derek is to see him with a faraway look in his eyes.

When Mrs. Hale closes the door behind her as she leaves, Derek reminds him why.

"My dad," Derek says softly. "Mom sometimes still has a hard time with it. Seeing you dressed as a bunny reminds her of when he used to- Of when he used to go to the Egg Runs."

"I'm sorry," Stiles says quietly, feeling guilty. "It didn't even cross-"

"It's okay," Derek shakes his head. "You don't have to apologize. I know you're dressed like this because it means something to us, and I'm glad you did it."

"Yeah?" Stiles asks, shifting on his heels so he and Derek are standing face to face.

"Yeah," Derek says, leaning in and bumping their noses together. "New happy memories and all of that."

Stiles closes the distance between them and slots their lips together in a sweet kiss, tasting the chocolate from the bat brownie on Derek's tongue.

The kiss is interrupted by Stiles' phone going off, Derek pulling back and sticking a hand on Stiles' pocket so he can grab it.

They both read the new text from Scott saying him and Allison are almost to the bar, and Stiles feels Derek's muscles tense from where his hands are resting on Derek's forearms.

"Are you okay to do this?" Stiles asks, because he knows this is not going to be easy.

There's baggage between Derek and Allison now, painful memories lingering between them, the knowledge that they've both been through something terrible by the hands of someone they loved.

And there's no telling how Derek's family will react.

Although, as far as Stiles understands, they know Allison doesn't have any kind of relationship with Kate.

"I don't know," Derek answers honestly. "But I'd like- I want to see her. Maybe we- I'd- We don't have to talk about it now, but I'd like to. Someday. I think it'd be good to me to talk to someone who knew her."

"I think Allison would like that," Stiles says, bringing his hands up to Derek's shoulders. "I know Scott told me she wanted to see you again."

Derek nods, "She seems nice. You know, from what I've seen so far."

"I think you'll like her," Stiles tells him. "Not because of- Because of what you guys have been through, but because she's genuinely one of the sweetest, strongest, and most caring human beings I've ever met."

Stiles doesn't know what he's expecting, but it's certainly not Derek making light of the situation.

"Just like me?"

Stiles gapes at Derek before winding his arms around Derek's neck, pulling him closer.

"Exactly like you, boo," Stiles bats his lashes at him, grinning.

Derek smiles, pecking him on the lips before saying, "We should probably get out there. So we're around when Scott and Allison get here."

"Yeah," Stiles sighs. "We wouldn't want to leave them alone with your sister."

"Afraid they'll tell Laura embarrassing stories about your past?"

"_Terrified_."

Derek laughs against Stiles' lips, kissing him again before pulling back and taking on of Stiles' hands in his.

They find everyone but Cora and Boyd, who are busy managing the bar, where they left them, sitting around and talking.

The only difference is that now Lydia and Laura are the ones paired up, whatever Laura is saying making Lydia smile, while Erica and Jackson appear to be arguing about something that makes Erica look smug and Jackson look shocked, and Isaac and Danny seem super interested in what Ethan is telling them.

Jackson is the first one who notices them coming back, nudging Erica with his elbow and tilting his chin in their direction.

Stiles' stomach churns when they both practically collapse on themselves laughing, turning his head to see that Derek is glaring at them both.

Jackson and Erica being horrible people and laughing at Stiles and Derek's expense - nevermind Stiles has no idea what they're laughing about, only that involves him and Derek - gets the attention of the others, who all stare at them like they think they know exactly why it took them so long to come back from the kitchen.

_Think_ being the key-word, because as soon as they go back to their places in front instead of behind the bar, Jackson asks, "You guys done making out now?"

Erica tries to hide her laughter behind the beer bottle she has in her hand, failing miserably when she chokes while taking a sip.

Jackson taps her on the back, pushing her hair aside from where it fell past her shoulders, covering her face.

"See?" Stiles asks after Erica tells Jackson she's okay. "This is what happens when you make fun of us behind our backs. You almost _choke to death._"

Erica sticks her tongue out at him, while Jackson narrows his eyes.

"If only that would happen to you, Stilinski."

"No, thank you," Stiles says, blowing him a kiss.

"Did mom stop hiding in the kitchen?" Laura asks Derek, wrinkling her nose. "I don't want to have people come up to me either asking me about her or _thinking_ I'm her."

Stiles bites down on the inside of his cheek, and by the way a muscle in Derek's jaw ticks, Stiles knows he's trying really hard not to make fun of his sister right now.

In people's defense, though, Laura does look a lot like her mother.

"Yeah, she's out playing host right now," Derek says. "After eating about five of Boyd's spider cup-"

Derek stops abruptly, eyes focused on a something at Laura's left side.

Stiles follows his gaze, and so do the others at noticing Derek's behavior, to see a couple who looks a lot like his best friend and his girlfriend walking up to them.

Especially when the guy raises his hand to wave at them.

"I don't know why Scott insists on bringing attention to himself," Lydia comments. "It's not like we don't know he and Allison are here."

At the mention of Allison's name, Derek's friends straighten, eyes sharp zeroing on her as they walk through the crowd and up to them.

Stiles knows this means they know who Allison is, and that by the way they're not calling security and asking for her to be thrown out they know she doesn't have any contact with Kate and never knew about her relationship with Derek.

But the cautious expression in their faces tell Stiles that they don't know why that's the case.

That Derek didn't tell them about what happened to Allison, that they're much more alike than any of them ever thought they were.

Scott is still smiling when they get to the bar, Allison's hand clasped tightly in his.

"Hey, man," Stiles says, letting go of Derek after squeezing his hand in favor of giving Scott a quick hug.

"Hey, dude," Scott says, flicking Stiles' nose. "Nice costume."

Stiles sticks his tongue out at him, turning to Allison.

"Hey, Stiles," Allison says shyly, but still with a small smile on her face, dimples showing.

"Hey, Ally," Stiles kisses her on the cheek, stepping back so he can really look at their costumes. "Really, guys? I mean._ Really_?"

"You like?" Scott grins wider, wiggling his eyebrows.

Danny, Jackson, and Stiles snort at them, while Lydia rolls her eyes.

"I think you make a great doctor," Allison tells Scott, kissing him on the cheek.

"And you make the sexiest firefighter I've ever seen," Scott tells her.

Only to have Jackson frown, "Hey."

Stiles pats Jackson on the head, "You're still the prettiest."

Jackson bats his hand away, frown deepening.

"Are those your mother's scrubs?" Lydia asks, eyeing Scott up and down.

Scott scratches the back of his neck, looking sheepish, "Yeah, she let me borrow them for tonight."

Lydia rolls her eyes again, and for a few seconds no one says anything anymore.

Derek's friends are still staring at Allison like they don't quite know what to do with her, sending glances at Derek every couple of seconds to see what he'll do.

Stiles likes it that they're leaving this for Derek to handle, instead of meddling like they've been doing so far.

He wonders if Derek spoke to them about her coming before the party started like he mentioned, letting them know not to do anything.

Allison is staring back at Derek, her eyes knowing and sad and expectant.

Because no matter how much she might want to talk to Derek or get to know him better, it's in Derek's hands to make the choice to let that happen.

Stiles slips his hand against Derek's again, linking their fingers together and offering support, letting him know Stiles is here for him.

Isaac must have called Cora and Boyd to let them know what's going on, because they appear behind the counter and stay there, eyes going from Derek to Allison and back again.

Erica, Isaac, and Laura are acting much the same way, although Laura's expression is a little more serious than the other's.

Isaac is actually the one who looks more relaxed about all of this, but that may be because he already knows Scott.

Lydia is eyeing them with that calculated look of hers that makes Stiles think she already found out what's going on and is now waiting for everyone to catch up.

Danny and Ethan both notice the tension, Ethan more with curiosity and Danny with concern.

He even sends a worried glance back in Stiles direction, only to get a small smile in return.

And then there's Jackson.

Who just takes a sip of his drink and looks oblivious to everything.

"Hi, Derek," Allison says, bringing everyone's attention to her.

Everyone knows there's a lot more to what she's saying than just a simple greeting, but no one comments on it.

They all stare back at Derek, his friends sending him looks as if telling him they have his back, while Stiles leans more heavily against his side and hopes to fuck this doesn't blow up in their faces.

He feels Derek take a deep breath, bracing himself for what he's about to do.

From the outside, he looks completely calm and in control of the situation, face blank in a way that either tells Stiles he's about to shut down or he's trying really fucking hard not to give in to his nerves.

Actually, the only thing that gives away how nervous Derek is is the way his palm goes clammy against Stiles'.

And then Derek takes a step forward, bringing Stiles with him by the iron grip he has on him.

He stops and looks at Allison, lips thin and jaw clenched, nails biting against the soft skin on the back of Stiles' hand.

Scott steps closer to Allison, who merely stares back at Derek, refusing to back out without him explicitly telling her to.

Which he doesn't, not at all.

Derek shifts on his heels, swallowing hard before he extends his free hand to her, saying, "It's nice seeing you again."

Stiles would laugh at how awkward Derek looks right now if this wasn't so important to him, if this didn't mean so much to both him and Allison.

Allison, who smiles like having Derek make this gestures means the world to her, shaking his hand and saying, "You too. Thank you for inviting us. The cards really helped us, because I think if we had to wait in line we'd never get in."

They all breathe a sigh of relief, Derek's friends and family still looking a bit wary, but knowing that if Derek is okay with having Allison here, then they should trust his judgement.

Stiles is the one who introduces Allison and Scott to the others when Derek looks at him pleadingly, as if he doesn't want to be the one to bring another Argent into their lives, no matter how nice he thinks Allison is.

He gets it, and he has no problem with taking that weight off Derek's shoulders.

Isaac is the most friendly one, already knowing who Scott is, and certainly having heard about Allison from him before. He smiles at both of them and claps Scott on the shoulder, smiling at him.

Boyd is his usual calm self, greeting them hello before apologizing and saying he needs to go back to work.

Erica eyes Allison like she's maybe thinking of pouncing and fighting her where they stand, but after Allison gushes about her costume she's a lot more at ease. Stiles thinks it might have something to do with the way Scott smiles goofily at her and starts telling her about his and Jackson's kitten rescue bet, giving the costume she's wearing.

Cora looks her usual blank-faced self, giving nothing away as introductions are made. She, too, excused herself to go back to work as soon as Scott and Allison say hi.

Laura is the one Stiles worries about most, knowing how protective older sisters can be, but he quickly finds out he doesn't have to when Laura is super nice to them, even going as far as grabbing a couple of stools and bringing them close so Scott and Allison can sit.

Stiles wonders if Laura's reaction has anything to do with her seeing how _he_ reacted that night at dinner, from hearing him say that Allison never mentioned Kate and no one knew she had any other family.

"Are there still a lot of people outside?" Laura asks them, eyes raking over the bar.

"You have no idea," Scott shakes his head. "I think everyone's curious to see what this place looks like on the inside."

"I think it looks great," Stiles sniffs.

Isaac rolls his eyes, "I wonder why."

"Why?" Danny, Jackson, Lydia, Scott, and Allison ask at the same time, all turning to Stiles.

Who clamps his mouth shut.

"Stiles texted Derek about people thinking this place was either a dungeon or a torture chamber and Talia decided to run with the idea," Erica tells them, smirking.

Especially when Stiles' friends turn to look at him in horror.

Derek is the one who saves Stiles from everyone, directing the conversation to safer topics.

It doesn't take long before Erica, Jackson, and Ethan are talking about couples yoga, Scott, Derek, and Isaac about bikes, and Laura, Lydia, and Allison about the many going-ons in the hospital and Laura's job as a lawyer, and Stiles and Danny about how well this is going.

"I noticed the tension before," Danny comments. "Between Derek and Allison. Whoever Derek dated that was friends with her, it seems like the person left a really bad impression."

Stiles presses his lips together, because Danny has _no idea_.

"You have no idea. But please don't mention anything," Stiles asks him. "Derek's friends are not really fond of that person, and it's actually a really huge step for them being this friendly with Ally."

"It seems like a huge step for Derek, too," Danny says, taking a sip of his drink.

"Nothing gets past you, doesn't it, Danny boy?"

Danny just grins, dimples showing.

"Do you like them?" Stiles bites down on his lower lip. "Derek's friends? Do you think-"

"That we'll be able to be near each other?" Danny fills in.

Stiles nods.

"I like them," Danny says honestly. "I know Ethan does, too. I can't say anything for the others, but it looks like they're having fun."

Stiles must still look a little nervous, because Danny adds, "You don't have to worry about us. We all know how much Derek means to you, and his friends and sisters seem like good people. Even if they turn out not to be one of our favorite people, we can still make nice with them."

Stiles' heart flips, hope blooming in his chest along with affection at having the greatest friends ever, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Danny gives him a sharp nod, bumping their shoulders together. "Now go back to your man. He keeps looking at us with a kicked puppy face and it's making me feel guilty."

Stiles turns to look at Derek just in time to see him staring at him.

And looking _exactly_ like a kicked puppy, the corner of his lips turned down.

When their eyes lock Derek immediately looks away, the tips of his ears flushing at being caught.

"Fuck, I love him," Stiles says, shaking his head and smiling softly.

"Did you already tell him that?" Danny raises an eyebrow at him.

Stiles shakes his head, because he still doesn't think now is the right time.

"I'm gonna go to him," Stiles says, to which Danny just rolls his eyes at him.

"And I'm going back to _my_ knight in shining armor," Danny winks, walking up to Ethan while Stiles walks up to Derek's side.

The skin of Derek's neck is still flushed hot at being caught staring, and Stiles is quick in placing a soft kiss right under his jaw.

"Missed me?" Stiles bats his lashes, grinning when Derek scowls at him.

Or tries to.

The way his lips twitch up in the corners totally ruins the effect.

"Dude," Scott says at seeing him. "We were just talking about going to get me a new bike."

Stiles blinks, remembering this conversation from dinner night, lips stretching in a smile at the knowing look in Scott's eyes.

Because this is him trying to make Derek feel included and let him know things are okay between them.

"Yeah?" Stiles looks at Derek, who nods, before turning back to Scott. "God knows you're needing one, buddy."

Scott points a finger at him, "No making fun of my crappy bike when the Jeep you're driving is older than us."

Isaac raises his eyebrows at that, looking impressed, "Seriously?"

Stiles narrows his eyes at him, "No talking shit about my baby."

"Who's talking shit about Derek?" Erica appears by Stiles' side, looking pissed.

And then vaguely confused when both Isaac and Scott burst out laughing, entire bodies shaking, and Derek looks about like he's ready for the ground to open and swallow him up.

"What?" Erica demands, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're the best," Isaac says, wiping tears from his eyes. "The absolute best."

"Obviously," Erica huffs. "But I still don't know what's going on."

Derek looks more and more uncomfortable, which leads Stiles to say, "What's going on is that Derek and I are going dancing."

Stiles barely registers the panic look on Derek's face at his words, too busy dragging him away from everyone by his wrist.

He stops when they're in the middle of the crowd, wrapping his arms around Derek's shoulders and pulling Derek flush against him.

"You okay?" Stiles asks, noticing how stiff Derek is in his arms.

"I don't really dance," Derek mumbles against Stiles' ear, breath ghosting over Stiles' neck.

"That's okay," Stiles shrugs. "You just looked like you needed away from there for a little while."

Derek snorts, hands resting tentatively on Stiles' hips.

"I knew my friends could be overwhelming," Derek says. "And that yours could, too. I don't know why we didn't think of that when we thought about bringing them together."

"I think we overlooked a lot of things because we wanted them to get along," Stiles muses out loud, turning his head a little so he can nose at Derek's cheek.

"And they do," Derek says, looking back at the bar where they're all sitting, talking and laughing with each other. "Or at least it looks like they do."

"This is going a whole lot better than we thought it would," Stiles says, following Derek's gaze. "I wonder why."

It's Derek's turn to shrug, "Maybe it's meant to be."

Stiles' head snaps back to Derek so fast he gets a little dizzy, jaw going slack as he stares at him, dumbfounded.

Because there Derek goes, being so fucking _adorable_ and _amazing_ and _cheesy_ that Stiles' heart is about to burst out of his chest.

He looks nervous, too, as if not really knowing if his words are welcomed.

But Derek doesn't avoid Stiles' gaze, not like he used to, not matter how uncomfortable he feels.

And Stiles loves him so much in that moment that he doesn't even think twice before pressing their lips together, licking his way past the seam of Derek's lips and trying to pour everything he's feeling into the kiss.

He thinks Derek gets it, with how he secures his arms more firmly around Stiles' waist, holding him tight, palms sliding under Stiles' jacket and shirt to rest on the small of his back.

Stiles doesn't know how long they stay like that, kissing, tasting, trying to convey how much they care about each other.

But he does know they only break apart because someone really close to them says, "I thought Laura was lying when she told me she found you kissing before saying hello to everyone."

They break the kiss with a slick sound, Stiles staring with wide eyes at the person standing next to them, while Derek buries his face against Stiles' neck and groans.

"Now, nephew, aren't you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?"

Derek lifts his head up and opens his mouth to say something Stiles thinks might have sound like a _fuck n_o, only to stop and frown at his uncle, "Are you dressed as_ yourself_?"

"I don't see why I'd need a costume when I'm this good looking," Peter smiles, all teeth.

Stiles blinks.

And takes in the expensive suit and shoes and styled haircut and creepy smile and wonders how the fuck is he related to Derek.

"Right," Derek says flatly, eyes narrowing.

The man, which Stiles now knows with absolute certainty is Derek's uncle, Peter, rolls his eyes at him.

And_ there it is_.

Definitely a Hale trait.

Peter gestures a hand for them to follow, leading them away from the ground, on the opposite direction of the bar.

Stiles has to say he's grateful for that.

And also a little bit scared, wondering what is that Peter wants to say that needs to be done away from their friends.

"Now, do you care for making introductions?" Peter smiles, all sharp teeth and a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Or should I take care of that myself?"

Stiles swallows hard.

"Uncle Peter," Derek says flatly. "This is Stiles, my boyfriend."

Peter raises his eyebrows, waiting for more.

Derek sighs.

"Stiles," Derek says, accompanied by a quick squeeze with the hand he has resting on Stiles' hip. "This is my uncle, Peter."

"Nice to meet you," Stiles says, extending a hand for a shake.

He figures he better be in his best manners when talking to Peter, and by the way his smile widens, Stiles is right.

"The pleasure's all mine," Peter says, shaking his hand. "I've heard a lot about you from my family these past few months."

"All good things, I hope," Stiles says, voice a little high.

"Oh, yes," Peter nods, his eyes burning into Stiles very much like Lydia's, making him think Peter knows all of his secrets by just looking at him. "Very good things."

Stiles offers him a smile, pressing closer to Derek.

He knows he doesn't really have a reason to feel uneasy around Peter, but there's just something about him that makes Stiles feel like he's walking on the edge of a very sharp knife.

"Especially from Derek," Peter adds, eyes going to his nephew.

Who blushes furiously, to Stiles' delight.

"Uncle Peter."

"Now, Derek, there's no need to be embarrassed," Peter says, patting him on the shoulder, his face softening. "It makes me happy knowing you've found someone that makes _you_ happy."

Stiles can hear the sincerity in Peter's words, the fact the he means what he's saying making Stiles relax a little.

And Derek, too, who looks at his Uncle less like he wants to kill him.

Until Peter turns to Stiles and says, "The question is if you feel the same."

Stiles blinks.

And figures Derek's friends and sisters' protective streak extends to his Uncle.

_Great_.

Stiles squares his shoulders and looks at Peter straight in the eye, refusing to back down.

"I do feel the same."

As much as Stiles wants to look at Derek, who turns to him, he keeps his eyes trained on Peter's.

He must see Stiles means it, with every fiber of his being, because his face breaks into a radiant smile, "I thought so. Now, if you two excuse me, I need to go find Derek's mother."

Derek and Stiles stare after him as he walks past them and back into the crowd, both looking like they have no idea what just happened.

"He was testing me, wasn't he?" Stiles asks, eyes still on the crowd.

Derek opens and closes his mouth without making a sign, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.

The motion makes his chef coat look even tighter across his chest and arms, and Stiles loses himself a little staring at him.

He's brought back to himself when Derek apologizes, though.

"I'm sorry for him," Derek shakes his head. "He always took care of us, and after- After what happened he kind of took it upon himself to take even _more_ care of everyone."

"I understand. I don't necessarily agree with what he just did, but I get it," Stiles says, and then makes a face. "But if he questions my feelings for you again, I'll be offended."

Derek's lips tug up at that, eyes dancing, "Your feelings for me?"

Stiles rolls his eyes.

"Don't even pretend you don't know how hot I am for your everything."

Derek smirks at him, not saying anything, just closing the distance between them and claiming Stiles' lips in a kiss.

With meeting Peter, the last of Stiles' worries are gone, leaving him able to enjoy the rest of the party.

They go back to their friends, finding that Danny and Ethan are out dancing, Isaac is helping Cora and Boyd and the other bartenders at the bar, Erica and Jackson laughing at their own jokes, and Lydia, Scott, and Allison talking to Laura about different hair products, of all things.

The night passes like that, with all of them together and getting to know a little about each other, dancing, drinking, laughing, and enjoying the night as a group.

It makes Stiles want to grab Derek and kiss the shit out of him, knowing that they did this, brought this people together, and that they all seem to genuinely like each other.

The only problem is that he can't find Derek anywhere.

He knows Laura, Erica, and Lydia are in the makeshift dance floor somewhere, while Jackson is talking to a guy dressed in a lacrosse uniform about his high school conquests, and Danny and Ethan disappeared a few minutes ago, which probably means they're having sex in the bathroom. Cora, Boyd, and Isaac are still serving people drinks, and Scott in slumped against Stiles' side, an arm thrown over his shoulder and a smile on his face.

And Allison is also nowhere to be seen.

He must say something out loud, because Scott turns to look at him, "Dude, they snuck out behind the counter to talk about thirty minutes ago."

Stiles blinks at him, eyes going to the door that leads to the kitchen.

"Do you think they're okay?"

Scott nods, "If they weren't, Allison would text me."

Stiles frowns, worrying at his bottom lip.

"Stiles," Scott pokes him in the cheek. "It's good that they have this time to talk about stuff. And it's also good knowing that we're here waiting for them after they do."

Stiles looks at his best friend, "When did you become so smart?"

"I think it was back when we were little and I refused to eat a worm just because you dared me to," Scott grins at him, making Stiles snort.

They keep talking about unimportant stuff, bringing their other friends into the conversation when they make an appearance, but Stiles can't help but have half of his attention focused on the door to the kitchen.

And that's why he doesn't miss it when it opens.

Allison's eyes are puffy and red, but the expression on her face is calm as she walks up to them.

She surprises the fuck out of Stiles when she smiles widely at seeing him staring, sharing a glance with Derek before walking up to them and pulling Stiles into a hug.

She doesn't say anything to him, just gives him a kiss on the cheek before turning to Scott.

"I think we should get going," she says, pecking him on the lips when he frowns at her. "I think in about a minute or ten I'm going to pass out and sleep and you won't be able to wake me up again."

Scott blinks at her, looking from her to Derek and back again before giving her a small smile.

"Okay," Scott says, turning to Stiles and raising his fist for a fist bump. "See you later, man."

"You, too."

"Derek," Scott says, shaking Derek's hand. "You can get my number from Stiles or Isaac so we can talk about the bike thing."

"I will," Derek nods. "And I'll make sure to let Isaac know he's going to be involved."

Scott grins at that, "I'll see you later too, then."

Allison gives Stiles another hug and kiss, and leaves him staring at her open-mouthed when she walks right up to Derek and hugs _him_.

Scott raises both his eyebrows at Stiles in a way that totally says_ I told you so_, but Stiles is too busy staring.

Because Derek _hugs her back_.

He even goes as far as smiling at her, even though is one of those barely there smiles, eyes soft as he looks at her.

"You'll be okay," Allison tells him, dimples showing. "And you have my number."

"Thank you," Derek says, nodding. "I- Thank you, Allison."

Allison looks from Stiles to Derek, smiling, "You're family now."

Like that's all there is to it.

Which it looks like it is, since Derek nods once again before giving her another quick hug and stepping back.

Stiles doesn't move after Scott and Allison turn and walk away, waiting for Derek to be the one to come to him.

And he does, looking worn out but _lighter_, like by talking to Allison he was able to let go of a few things that were bringing him down.

His arms go around Stiles' waist when he gets close enough, pulling him to him, face coming to hide against the crook of Stiles' neck, breathing him in.

Derek doesn't say anything, just stays there, with Stiles bringing a hand up to run through his hair, his lips pressed against Derek's shoulder.

"Want to talk about it?" Stiles asks, feeling Derek shaking his head.

"Later," Derek mumbles against Stiles' neck.

"Okay."

Stiles sees Laura eyeing them in concern as she makes her way back to the bar, Stiles waving a hand and making a face trying to tell her not to worry.

She must get what he's trying to say, because she nods and turns back around.

He knows Derek needs this time to regroup, that whatever he and Allison talked about in there wasn't something easy for him.

"Do you want to leave?" Stiles offers after a few minutes of Derek staying exactly where he is.

He feels Derek taking a deep breath, their chests pressed together, before he nods.

"Okay," Stiles says, pushing Derek back a little. "Want to say goodbye to everyone?"

Derek makes a face, then, like saying goodbye to his friends is the last thing he wants right now.

Stiles figures it's because they'll know something is up, and then they'll bug Derek about it until he tells them what it is.

"No goodbyes, then," Stiles says, sliding his hands down Derek's arms so he can hold his hands. "Just make sure to text them you're leaving so they don't call the poli-"

Stiles eyes widen, because his _dad_.

Derek must be thinking about the same thing he is, because he suddenly looks about three shades paler than usual, eyes darting around the bar as if to make sure Stiles' dad isn't hiding anywhere.

"He's not here," Stiles shakes his head. "He didn't show up."

"Or we didn't see him," Derek says, sounding hopeful.

Stiles snorts, "Trust me, he'd want us to see him."

Derek presses his lips together, "Do you think he'll still stop by?"

"I think we should probably head out," Stiles says, licking his lips. "Now. You know, in case he does."

Stiles doesn't think he's ever seen Derek move that fast, grabbing Stiles' hand and pulling him towards the door as soon as the word does is out of Stiles' lips.

They halfway there when Stiles feels someone's hand on his shoulder, tugging at Derek's hand to make him stop walking, and he sees his entire life flash before his eyes as he slowly turns around.

"Stilinski, thank you for the invitations."

Stiles could swear his heart stops in his chest, relief coursing through his body at seeing Chief Finstock in front of him.

Only for his wits to go back to him and make him _really_ look at Chief Finstock in front of him.

"You're welcome, sir," Stiles says weakly, eyes too busy glued to his costume.

Or, more precisely, his _cupcake costume_.

That Stiles is pretty sure is for women.

"Hale," Finstock turns to Derek, who's staring at him with a bewildered expression. "Tell your mother this party is _rocking_."

"I will," Derek nods, blinking. "Sir."

Finstock nods, as if satisfied, before turning on his heels and walking away.

Derek and Stiles stand there for a second or two more, minds trying to come to grasps with what they just saw.

Derek is the first one who recovers, going back to dragging Stiles out as fast as he possibly can.

They pass Peter on the way, him and Stiles locking eyes for a few seconds that are enough for Peter to smirk at him, looking pleased.

By what, Stiles really doesn't want to know.

The air is cool outside, people still hanging around trying to get in, others just leaning against their cars and talking.

They walk to where their cars are parked, hand in hand, eyes scanning the parking lot looking for any signs of Stiles' dad.

They stop just short of Stiles' Jeep, facing each other, Derek looking like he has something to say but doesn't quite know how.

Stiles waits, leaning into Derek's space, fingers playing with the buttons of his coat.

"I don't think-," Derek starts, hands wrapping around Stiles' wrists, just holding on. "I said I wanted to leave, but I don't think I'm-"

Stiles looks at him, hands now splayed over Derek's chest.

"You're not ready to spend the night," Stiles guesses, lips curling up when Derek shakes his head. "It's okay. You don't have to. We can just stand here and talk. Or we can get inside the Jeep and talk. Or I can get inside the Jeep and drive home and you can get on your bike and drive to the loft. We have options, lots of them."

Derek stares at him for a few moments, eyes intense in a way that means he's thinking hard about something.

"Can I follow you on the bike while you drive home?"

"Sure," Stiles nods, confused.

Derek gives him a quick smile, pecking him on the lips before pushing him in the direction of his car.

Stiles goes, still having no idea where Derek is going with this.

The drive back to his place is filled with Stiles staring at his rearview mirror trying to see Derek, chuckling to himself when he does and Derek catches him, lifting his hand in a small wave.

He waits for Derek to climb off of the bike after they get to his building, leaning against the side of his Jeep, hands deep in his pockets.

Derek walks up to him, still in costume and looking just as gorgeous as when Stiles first saw him tonight.

And he kisses him.

Deep and slow and like he wants to make a statement, pressing his body against Stiles' and Stiles' body against the side of the car.

All Stiles can do is snake his arms around Derek's waist and hold on, pulling Derek impossibly closer to him and moan softly whenever Derek nips at his lips.

When Derek pulls back they're both breathing hard, cheeks flushed and hearts speeding, looking dazed.

"What was that?" Stiles blinks at him, sounding all kinds of breathless.

Even more so when Derek smiles, teeth showing and eyes crinkling and a dimple showing on his cheek.

"That was your treat," is all Derek says, looking extremely proud of himself.

Stiles closes his eyes, fighting the urge to break down right then.

Because he fucking loves Derek, okay?

He loves Derek, and Derek just made the most terrible and cheesy Halloween pun Stiles has ever heard, and it's too much.

It's _too much_, okay?

His heart can't handle dow fucking _adorable_ Derek is half the time, let alone when he looks this _pleased with himself_ about making a joke.

So all Stiles can do is open his eyes and shake his head at him, leaning in until he's smiling against Derek's lips and saying, "Happy Halloween, baby."

Derek smiles softly back, eyes crinkling as he brushes their lips together and says, "Happy Halloween, Bunny."

* * *

**a/n**:

**Stiles **as Bunny Yummy (suggested by TiggerLover, Shinigami24, No_shirt_no_shoes_no_Sheldon, mademoisellepantalonssassy, anon, AlecMcDowell, doctorwolf)

**Derek **as a Chef

**Talia** as an Alpha werewolf

**Peter** as himself because he's too good looking (kind of suggested by effbiz)

**Laura** as Wonder Woman because she's fucking wonderful, okay? (also kind of suggested by effbiz)

**Cora** as Jelly

**Isaac** as Peanut Butter

**Boyd** as MJ in Space Jam

**Erica** as Catwoman (suggested by effbiz, siriuslyyellow)

**Scott** as a doctor (suggested by TsukinArchangel)

**Allison** as a firefighter (suggested by TsukinArchangel)

**Lydia** as Athena (suggested by reader)

**Jackson** as Noah from The Notebook (suggested by TsukinArchangel)

**Danny** as Prince Charming (suggested by reader)

**Ethan** as a knight (suggested by reader)

**Chief** **Finstock** as a cupcake


End file.
